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4bvatt| 0f (i)m%xtH, 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE HEART 



DELINEATED 



IN ITS STATE BY NATURE, 



RENEWED BY GRACE. 



HUGH SMITH, D.D., 

RECTOR OF ST. PETER's CHURCH. NEW-YORK. 



N E W-Y R K : 

Harper & Brothers, 82 Cliff-st. 







^'"^^ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by 

Harper & Brothers, 

In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York. 



S^^. Y'^ 






THE MEMORY 

OF 

AN HONOURED MOTHER, 

AND 

OF OTHERS NEAR AND DEAR TO HIS HEART, 

WHO, IN THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD, HAVE BEEN SUMMONED 
HENCE, 

IS INSCRIBED, BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



A2 



PREFACE 

TO THE FIRST EDITION. 



In the following pages it is intended to illus- 
trate the human heart. By this, I mean some- 
thing widely different from that fleshly organ 
which performs the most important and the 
most vital functions in the body of man ; which 
has been so often laid bare by the knife of the 
anatomist, and technically described by the 
physiologist. I mean the seat and spring of 

THE AFFECTIONS ; THE MORAL AND SPIRITUAL PART 
OF MAN ; IN DISTINCTION FROM THE INTELLECTUAL 
OR THINKING PART OF THE SOUL, AND SEPARATED 
BY A STILL BROADER AND DEEPER LINE OF DEMAR- 
CATION FROM THE MATERIAL BODY. That man 

has A HEART, in this sense of the term, even 
wild and skeptical theorists allow, and the 
world at large/eeZ. The distinct nature of this 
spiritual organ is clearly recognised in many 
popular phrases daily used. What more com- 



Vm PREFACE. 

mon than the remark, that an individual " has 
much mindy hut little heart ?" and again, " a 
weak mindy but a good heart ?" To metaphysi- 
cians and physiologists I leave all subtle disqui- 
sitions on the subject. While some lose them- 
selves amid abstract theories concerning the 
law^s and properties of mind and spirit, and 
while others busy themselves in reading the 
qualities of the heart in the external develop- 
ments of the head, in tracing all moral sensa- 
tions and acts to the influence of physical tem- 
perament consequent on corporeal organization^ 
I v^ould fain present some plain truths, in a plain 
way, to those who have minds to reflect and 
hearts to feely and who, leaving the philosophy 
of thought and feeling to others, are principal- 
ly anxious to think and feel aright. To such I 
shall speak of the heart in a popular yet scrip- 
tural manner ; and I mistake if a familiar scrip- 
tural analysis and consideration of its several 
quahties will not do more towards the rectifi- 
cation of its many disorders than any specula- 
tions of " philosophy falsely so called." 

The geographer, who would convey a just 
idea of any particular country, gives its outlines 
and prominent features, exhibits its state at dif- 



PREFACE. tX 

ferent seasons, notes its inhabitants, its culture, 
and its productions. The astronomer^ who 
would describe a planet, follows it through its 
wonted course, and depicts it in all its phases. 
The demonstrator in anatomy shows the joints, 
bones, nerves, and muscles of the animal man, 
both separately and in their mutual connexion 
and dependance. The accomplished physician, 
in descanting upon any viscus or organ, exhib- 
its it in its healthful state and in its derange- 
ment ; in the regular discharge of its appro- 
priate functions, and in its morbid action. My 
object is to give a graphic description, a faith- 
ful chart, of the spiritual region within ; to show 
the different phases of a spiritual but too erratic 
planet ; its darker and its brighter aspects, as it 
recedes from or approximates towards the sun 
and centre of light and life ; to lay open and 
exhibit the framework and texture of the inner 
man, so " fearfully and wonderfully made ;" to 
place before the reader the moral heart, in its 
soundness and its unsoundness ; as it now, with 
perfect regularity, sends the warm current of 
life and health through the system, or again as 
it labours under its occasional and fearful 
maladies. 



X PREFACE. 

The several states or conditions under which 
the heart will be presented are such as have 
been " noted in the Scripture of truth." These, 
it is trusted, will give a clear view of the sub- 
ject, and, at the same time, be connected with 
sacred associations in the minds of the pious. 
It is a fair presumption, that " He who formed" 
the heart, who " knoweth what is in the heart 
of man, and needeth not that any should tell 
him," best knew what are its leading peculiari- 
ties, and by what terms they should be desig- 
nated. In following, then, the divisions, and 
adopting the terms of Him " who spake by the 
prophets," we cannot greatly err. 

Even a superficial reader of the sacred vol- 
ume must be struck by one great distinction 
which there obtains — the distinction between 

THE HEART AS IT IS BY NATURE and THE HEART 

AS RENEWED BY DiviNE GRACE ; leading to an 
analogous arrangement of all mankind under 
TWO GREAT CLASSES, the UNRENEWED and the 
RENEWED. On this scriptural and strongly- 
marked distinction is based the main division 
of the present work. 

In addition to this primary distinction, there 
will be recognised some of those minor peculi 



PREFACE. XI 

arities which the Spirit of God has deemed 
worthy of specification. Each heart has its 
own moral or spiritual peculiarites ; and even 
the same heart differs widely from itself at dif- 
ferent periods. It is well, therefore, that these 
specific traits should be faithfully described, so 
that each reader may, in some portion of the 
work, as from a glass, see his own image clear- 
ly reflected. 

It had been easy to have thrown this little 
work into the narrative form, or to have given 
to it the attraction of fictitious incident, the em- 
bellishment of a fancy dress ; but the author, 
from principle^ was unwilling to minister to 
what he has long deemed a vitiated public taste, 
or to swell the number of those sacred fictions 
which tend, he is persuaded, to enervate the 
youthful mind, to diminish the reverence of the 
youthful heart, and to clothe the hallowed form 
of religion in too light and loose attire. Having 
on other occasions publicly expressed his con- 
viction of their injurious tendency, and awa- 
kened some attention to the necessity of a 
change in public taste and practice, he is dis- 
posed consistently to act upon his expressed 
opinions, and to hazard the experiment wheth- 



XU PREFACE. 



er truth may not be popularly and attractively 
presented, though it come in its own simple 
form, and rest only on its intrinsic merits. 

Should the experiment succeed, and the 
present work be favourably received, it will 
probably be followed by others not unsuited to 
the Sunday-school Library, yet especially de- 
signed for the private reading of the Christian 
closet, and for the social reading of the Chris- 
tian family circle, and intended to form a con- 
nected series, having reference to the discipline 

of THE THOUGHTS, THE LIPS, AND THE LIFE of 

the Christian, that he may be prepared for 
" THE dj:ath of the righteous" and " the res- 
urrection of the just." 

The work now offered has its origin in the 
strong promptings of duty ; in deep solicitude 
for the proper culture of hearts, whose sancti- 
fication is essential to present happiness, and 
whose affections and habits will go with them 
to the eternal world. May it be perused by 
you, reader, in that " honest and good heart," 
which " receives the truth in the love of it," 
under the solemn conviction that the eyes of 
" the Searcher of hearts" are upon you, and 
that all the secrets of your heart shall be made 



PREFACE. Xm 

known in the day of his account. Affec- 
tionately commended to your serious attention, 
it is also commended to the blessing of Him, 
" without whom nothing is strong, nothing is 
holy," and " who alone can order the unruly 
wills and affections of sinful man." 

1834. 

B 



PREFACE 

TO 

THE SECOND EDITION. 



This work, at its first appearance, without 
the author's name, was favourably received, 
and an edition of one thousand copies was 
soon exhausted. Its repubhcation, then and 
subsequently contemplated, has, from various 
circumstances, been thus long deferred. At 
the present, when a growing tendency is man- 
ifested to the exaltation of that which is exter- 
nal and ceremonial, over that which is spiritual 
— to a religion of forms rather than the reli- 
gion of the heart — the hope is . indulged that 
its presentation, after careful revision, and its 
wider circulation, will be found seasonable. A 
few slight alterations have been made, addi- 
tional notes subjoined, and the closing chapter 
considerably enlarged. 



St. Peter's Rectory, 
Dec. 2, 1843. 



I 



CONTENTS. 



PART I. 

CHAPTER I. 

ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HEART. 

Can the Heart be known to itself? — Testimony of Scripture in the Case. 
— Precept of Heathen Antiquity.— How this Knowledge is to be attain- 
ed. — Mason's Treatise. — Scripture the best Help. — To be consulted 
with Prayer for God's Spirit Page 21 

CHAPTER H. 

THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

General Detestation of Peccz*.— Universal Deceitfulness of the Heart. — 
Paradox Reconciled. — Important Distinction. — Degree of Deceitful- 
ness. — Its first Manifestation, reaction upon Self — Two Classes of the 
Self-deceived : their Description. — Influence of the deceitful Heart 
upon the Conduct. — Regard to Appearances not Hypocrisy. — Admira- 
ble Motto. — Attempt to impose upon God. — Not to be lightly charged 
upon the Unrenewed. — Danger to be apprehended . . .27 

CHAPTER III. 

THE DECEIVED HEART. 

Modem Liberalism. — Its Issue. — Based upon an Impossibility.— Isaiah's 
sarcastic Rebuke of Idolatry. — Sincerity of Idolaters. — Application of a 
fashionable Theory to their Case. — Their true State. — More common 
Cases in point. — Mental Error affecting the Heart. — Hopelessness of 
the consequent Self-deception.— Influence of a corrupt Life . . 48 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY OF THE HUMAN HEART. 

The eidstence of Depravity certain. — Question actually involved. — Two 
prominent Theories. — Defectiveness of the Theory of Imitation. — Ge- 
neric Corruption. —Doctrine of Transmission. —Positive Evidences of 
native Depravity. — Examination of Self. — Inference from human Con- 
duct generally. — Testimony of Scripture. — Its explicit Declarations. — 
Its general Scope. — Importance of the Question discussed. — Difference 
between the two Theories illustrated 56 



XVI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY 
Danger of going beyond Scripture. — Assertion of Totality. — Term inap- 
plicable. — The Inconsistencies it involves. — Opinions of Dr. Dwight. 
— Dr. Chalmers. — Bishop Sumner. — Other Testimonies. — Attempt at 
Reconciliation. — True Source of Danger. — Doctrine of Depravity to be 
inculcated Page 75 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 

Natural Repugnance to the Appointment of Faith as the great Essential 
to Salvation. — This Appointment no unjust Assumption of Authority. 
— God farther vindicated by our Natural State. — Plea of Inability to 
believe. — Unbelief impeaches God's Veracity. — Consequences of Un- 
belief. — Exclusion of the unbelieving from Heaven not arbitrary. — 
Distinction between Intellectual Skepticism and the Unbelief of the 
Heart. — Evidences of Christianity. — How far valuable. — Rarely in- 
strumental to Conversion. — Coleridge. — Insidiousness and latent Ex- 
istence of Unbelief. — The Heart to be guarded against its Influence. — 
Danger which it involves .90 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE DIVIDED HEART. 

The Term figurative. — Import of the Figure. — The whole Heart to be 
given to God. — Supreme Love to Him, how far exclusive of other Af- 
fections. — Human Affection the Dictate of Nature. — Taught in Scrip- 
ture. — Want of natural Affection to whom ascribed.— Example of the 
Saviour.— Of his Disciples. — Inference.— Farther Illustrations. — Ne- 
cessary Cautions.— Singular Coincidence, family Affliction.— By what 
the Heart is unworthily divided. — Evidences of this State.— Its Rem- 
edy. — Importance of Singleness of Heart. — A Motive . . . 108 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE HARDENED HEART— THE HEART OF ADAMANT. 

Hardness, whether an invariable Attribute of the Heart or not. — Soon 
induced.— Induration is a personal Work. — The mode of Induration 
twofold. — Casual hardening, how effected. — Wilful hardening .-^Ex- 
amples.— The Child.— The Youth. — The Man.— Bending of Principles. 
— Corruption of Practice. — ^Resistance against Appeals. — Degrees of 
Induration. — Preventive and remedial Discipline . . . .137 

CHAPTER IX. 
Conclusion 160 



CONTENTS. XVU 



PART 11. 

CHAPTER I. 
Introduction Page 167 

CHAPTER n. 

THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 

The Idea of native Innocence not involved in the Term. — A Cause of 
Perplexity to those who reject this Idea. — Solution of the Difficulty.— 
Constituents of the honest and good Heart. — How far its Attainment 
is in the Power of Men themselves. — Necessary Indebtedness to Grace 
presupposed. — Human Effort. — Its bearing upon Prejudices, Indiffer- 
ence, and the general State of the Heart 177 

CHAPTER III. 

PRIMARY INFLUENCES— SPIRITUAL CONCERN. 

First Influences of Grace not always obvious. — Inquietude and Self-dis- 
satisfaction. — Illustrations of this State. — Different Exhibitions of it. 
— Next Stage, Religious Concern. — Derided by some, but natural and 
becoming. — Social Religious Concern. — Modem Perversions of it. — Re- 
vivals. — Its sober Statement. — Expedients of those under Concern. — 
Singular Case. — Treatment of those in this State. — Needless Notoriety 
to be avoided. — Anxious Class. — Anxious Seats . . . .189 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART, 

The Term figurative. — Figure analyzed. — Its Import. — Its Application. 

— This State by some lightly regarded. — Indispensable to genuine 
Christian Experience. — Its Degree. — Distinction between it and the 
broken Heart popularly spoken of. — It will not be despised. — Relative 
Position of Repentance and Faith. — Mode in which the Heart becomes 
broken. — Its Evidences 201 

CHAPTER V. 

THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 

The spiritual breaking of the natural Heart was necessary. — Its binding 
up prevents the Charge of Severity against God. — It is a Divine Act. 

— Vainly attempted by human Acts and Expedients. — Manner in 
which it is effected. — Illustrated by the Saviour's earthly Cures. — It 
is not a single and arbitrary Act. — There is no new and private Reve- 
lation. — Doctrine of Assurance. — Unscriptural. — Its injurious Tenden- 
cy. — Explanation. — The Fact itself. — The proper Feelings of the 
healed Spirit 215 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE NEW HEART— THE NEW MAN. 

Spiritual Change.— Its Importance. — To be divested of all needless Mys- 
tery. — Reality of such Change. — How to be proved. — Illustrated by 

B2 



XVIU CONTENTS. 

the future Change of the Body. — Argument from National Conversion. 
— Ancient Britain. — Southern Pacific. — Waste Places of Christendom. 
— Additional Illustrations. — The Change in the successive Stages of 
Life. — Reformation of particular Vices. — Inference. — An entire 
Change not incredible. — The Manner mysterious. — Its Nature.— Not 
of sudden Experience. — To what it amounts. — Opposition to the Doc- 
trine of Spiritual Change. — Attempted Evasion on the Authority of St. 
John. — His Testimony fairly stated. — Testimony of the rest of Scrip- 
ture. — The Doctrine held and taught by the Protestant Episcopal 
Church. — Authorities adduced. — Appeal to the Candour of the reli- 
gious Public— Exception claimed in Favour of those religiously Dis- 
posed from Infancy. — The Claim examined. — Objection against the 
universal Necessity of renev^ral ansv^rered.— Appeal to the Reader.— 
Evidences of Conversion Page 231 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE NEW MAN MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 

Distinction more fully stated between Change of Heart and Sanctifica- 
tion. — Case of St. Paul. — Importance of the Distinction. — Progressive 
maturing for Heaven. — Its Probability inferred from Analogy. — From 
Death, and the consequent Change. — This ripening for Glory not al- 
ways exhibited. — Why ? — Description of the maturing Saint. — His 
probable secret Exercises and. Enjoyments. — Remembered Instances. — 
My venerable Neighbour. — Sketch of his Family. — The blind Daugh- 
ter. — The Consumptive. — The young Convalescent. — A Word in Sea- 
son,— Mrs. Graham.— Her Friend. — Ordinary Sanctification. — Causes 
of its Increase.— Influence of Age. — Reasonableness of this Influence. 
— Sickness a preparative for Heaven. — Examples. — The Widow's Son. 

— H. M. of B .—My Sister. — My Mother.— Spirituality to be daily 

sought and carefully preserved. — Conclusion . . , 276 



PART FIRST. 



THE HEART IN ITS STATE BY 
NATURE. 



THE HEART, &c. 



CHAPTER I. 

ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HEART. 

** Who can know it " 

" Ye know not what spirit ye are of." 

" Examine yourselves." 

Can the heart he known by its possessor ? 
ty him whose spiritual being, whose identity 
and accountability it forms ? In other words, 
can it be known by itself? This is an impor- 
tant question. The interrogative exclamation 
of the prophet, prefixed to this chapter, seems 
to assert the negative in the strongest possible 
manner. The declaration of our Lord to his 
zealous but vindictive disciples shows that 
many do not know their own hearts, nor the 
motives under which they speak and act. The 
exhortation of the apostle to a careful exami- 
nation of self proceeds upon the same pre- 
sumption; and facts daily show that a vast 
majority of mankind know as little of their 
own heart as though it belonged not to them ; 
as little as they do of the unexplored and most 
remote regions of the earth, the mere names 
and positions of whick they have only heard. 
We often hear the expression, that such or 
such men "Aave no heart — no soulf^ and an 



22 ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HEART. 

ingenious and pious writer,* improving upon 
the hint, and drawing his inferences from the 
ordinary conduct of the mass of men, has pre- 
sented us with " a world without souls J^ These 
men, to whom the very possession of a heart is 
popularly denied, feel, indeed, some of its more 
common natural affections ; they are moved at 
times by its fiercer passions, and they habit- 
ually obey its perverted tendencies. Yet they 
do all this, as it were, mechanically, just as the 
brute follows his instinct ; never asking them- 
selves whence the prompting comes — whether 
it be right or wrong ; or what is the state of 
that exhaustless fund of thought, and spring of 
feeling and of action, from which they daily 
draw, and which sends its strong current 
through all the channels of the life. They 
** care for none of these things" — they investi- 
gate them not — " these things they willingly 
are ignorant of" — as ignorant as they are of 
the deepest, the most inscrutable mysteries of 
God. Automaton-like, they move and act, but 
do not think ; moving and acting from impulse, 
not from principle. Such men (and, alas ! they 
are but too numerous), it is evident, cannot 
and will not know their own hearts, until their 
true state shall be revealed to them in the 
searching light, and amid the full develop- 
ments of that day when the secrets of all 
hearts shall be disclosed. 

"Know thyself" was one of the admired 

♦ Rev. J. W. Cunningham. 



ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HEART. 2^ 

precepts of ancient wisdom. This was no 
more than an exhortation to study and know 
the heart, for the heart constitutes the moral 
man. Yet heathen wisdom, while it gave the 
precept, could give neither counsel nor aid for 
its fulfilment. This was to be reserved for 
Revelation. In its fulness and perfection, in- 
deed, this knowledge is not to be obtained on 
earth ; for the most exalted saint, through the 
imperfection of his discernment, and the deceit- 
fulness of nature, will live and die in partial 
ignorance of self. After his best endeavours 
to know himself aright, he will have reason to 
be dissatisfied with the result, and to cry out 
with the Psalmist, " Search me, O God, and 
know my heart ; try me, and know my 
thoughts ; and see if there be any wicked way 
in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." 

To all who are anxious not to remain stran- 
gers to themselves, and to the busy little world 
of thought and feeling within them, we would 
earnestly recommend the careful and frequent 
perusal of Mason's admirable Treatise on 
Self-Knowledge, a work deservedly dear 
to the religious pubhc, and one which, it is be- 
lieved, has produced as much of spiritual ben- 
efit as any other human production that has 
gone forth to the world. But infinitely above 
this and all other human aids is God's own 
Book. Let that be studied in an humble and 
believing spirit, and we shall soon ascertain 
what our hearts are by nature, and what they 



24 ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HEART. 

may and must be made, through grace, if we 
would escape condemnation. There, and there 
alone, we can learn the holiness of God — the 
nature, ofFensiveness, " exceeding sinfulness" 
of sin. There only we can learn what consti- 
tutes sin; how it lurks unsuspected under 
many a fair aspect and many a lauded action. 
Above all, there we learn to trace it in its 
connexion with ourselves — to see and to feel, 
not only that all men are sinners, but that " we 
have sinned, and come short of the glory of 
God." From general, careless admissions and 
assertions, we come to private and personal 
application — ^to home appeals — ^to humbling 
communings with our own hearts — to the tear 
of penitence — to the heart-prompted confes- 
sion — ^to the prayer of faith and intensity. 
The mirror, not of falsehood and flattery, but 
of reality and truth, is held up before us. We 
behold our image clearly and faithfully re- 
flected. Struck with our moral and spiritual 
deformity, pride and vanity being broken and 
dissipated as in a moment, we are constrained 
to say, " God be merciful to me a sinner !" 
" Lord Jesus, save me or I perish !" 

And not less necessary are these Scriptures 
of truth to the confirmation of the believer 
than to the conversion of the sinner. Not- 
withstanding his faith, even he is in danger of 
" forgetting what manner of man he is," and 
ought to be. They who "knew not what 
spirit they were of," were disciples of our 



ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HEART. 25 

blessed Lord, in personal attendance upon hisT 
ministry. It was one of the most zealous of 
their number who merited and received the 
cutting rebuke, " Get thee behind me, Satan ; 
for thou art an offence to me : for thou savour- 
est not the things that be of God, but those 
that be of men." So little did this same disci- 
ple know himself and his own weakness, that 
he averred to his Master, with all confidence, 
" Though all men shall be offended because of 
thee, yet will I never be offended" — " Though 
I should die with thee, yet will I not deny 
thee." The sequel of this presumptuous con- 
fidence is known, and should be treasured up 
in memory by all Christian disciples as a sol- 
emn warning to themselves. Well, indeed, did 
the Psalmist express himself, when he exclaim- 
ed in prayer, " Who can understand his errors ? 
Cleanse thou me from secret faults. Keep 
back thy servant also from presumptuous sins ; 
let them not have dominion over me." Now 
it is from his Bible that the Christian will best 
learn " to understand his errors." By it, " his 
secret sins will be set in the light of his coun- 
tenance," and wo be unto him, if, neglecting 
that " Word of God," which " is quick and 
powerful, a discerner of the thoughts and in- 
tents of the heart," he suffers them to be for 
a time concealed from himself. They will 
not be concealed forever. Too large to be 
longer covered with the mantle of deceit, and 
too powerful for restraint, bursting all the 
C 



26 ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HEART. 

bonds of prudence and of decency, they will 
glare in the broad light of day, to his own 
shame and confusion of face, and to the aston- 
ishment and contempt of the world ; and, his 
own spirit being crushed and broken by the 
too late perception of their magnitude and 
power, and the finger of scorn pointed at him 
on every side, these secret offences will rapidly 
pass into those "presumptuous sins^^ which 
defy God, and cry from the earth for his terri- 
ble retribution. 

But, that the Scriptures may thus enlighten 
our understandings, and give us sober and 
humbling views of self, they must be consulted 
with earnest supplications for the aids of God's 
Holy Spirit. Without this, the Bible may be 
to us " a sealed book and a dead letter." The 
lively oracles of God " will give no response 
to those who do but draw near," and stand 
and look upon them, but are too proud, or too 
negligent, to ask " an answer of peace." " The 
vail" may be upon our hearts, as it was upon 
the hearts of the Jews, when Moses and the 
Prophets are read to us ; yea, when the Evan- 
gelists and Apostles, and Christ himself, ad- 
dress us from these heavenly pages. To the 
Holy Spirit alone it appertains to " convince 
the world of sin, of righteousness, and of a 
judgment to come." He only " can take of 
the things of God and show them unto us." 
With the Psalmist, then, let each of us pray, 
*'Cast me not away from thy presence, and 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 8? 

take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Give me 
the comfort of thy help, and stablish me with 
thy free Spirit." " Send out thy light and thy 
truth, and let them guide me and lead me to 
thy holy hill." 

We have now seen it to be most difficult to 
know our own heart. Some never attempt 
the acquisition of this knowledge ; and even 
the most pious seekers attain it but measura- 
bly. A prominent cause of this difficulty and 
failure will be pointed out and discussed in the 
following chapter. 



CHAPTER 11. 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 



" The heart is deceitful above all things." 
" Let no man deceive himself." 

" Lest any be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin." 
*' Cursed be the deceiver, which hath in his flock a male, and 
voweth and sacriiiceth unto the Lord a corrupt thing." 

Perhaps no trait of human character elicits 
more general reprobation than deceit. The 
candid, the ingenuous, the single-hearted, turn 
in disgust from the man "whose words are 
softer than oil, while there is war in his heart ;" 
who speaks " with flattering lips and a double 
heart." And even this man, with all his guile, 



28 THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

either ignorant of his true character, or anx- 
ious to conceal it from the world, is loud in 
his denunciations of his own characteristic 
vice, and in his professions of honest, uncom- 
promising sincerity. And yet, while the whole 
human family profess to abominate deceit^ 
each member of it carries within him a deceit- 
ful heart. " The heart," says the Prophet 
Jeremiah, " is deceitful above all things" He 
speaks generally. " The heart," not of this 
man or of another ; not of the many or of the 
few; but the heart generally, as it is found 
in all living human possessors. Still, notwith- 
standing this sweeping declaration, which 
Scripture records, and which, as we shall see, 
facts corroborate, we would shrink from pro- 
nouncing deceit, as the term is understood, an 
inseparable attribute of human character. The 
common ingenuousness of childhood would 
put to scorn such an imputation. Its open 
countenance, its dauntless, upward-looking eye, 
its artless smile, all attest sincerity in the 
heart and speech. Should interest or fear 
prompt an attempt at evasion or deception, 
the yet unhackneyed spirit and untutored 
face betray the effort. The faltering tongue 
and stammering lips almost refuse to utter a 
falsehood, or, should the prompting motive be 
sufficiently strong to overcome this repug- 
nance when it is uttered, indignant conscience 
writes its proof in the downcast, quailing eye, 
the tell-tale blush, the culprit look of the 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 3ft' 

offender. This, then, would go far to prove 
that, although the tendency to deceit may be 
general, the quality of deceit is not a universal 
characteristic of our race ; that it belongs to 
the exceptions among us, rather than to all ; 
and this partial proof may be completed by 
remembering the universal odium in which it 
is held, the earnestness with which it is disa- 
vowed, and the rigour with which it is pun- 
ished, when it breaks out into open artifice or 
fraud. 

Here, then, appears a seeming paradox, that 
deceitful men are comparatively rare, and yet 
that all men have within them t "deceitful 
heart." This, however, is easily solved. The 
same term has different acceptations, and its 
meaning varies with its applications. Thus 
the deceitfulness of the heart, and deceitfulness, 
as applied to the peculiar disposition, to con- 
duct, or to character, are essentially distinct. 
The one is of generic, the other of specific ap- 
plication. It would be deemed an insult to tell 
a man of mere ordinary worldly morality that 
he was deceitful ; but the holiest saint that lives 
would not demur to the charge that his heart 
is deceitful, yea, and " deceitful above all 
things." In the one case, the charge alleges 
peculiar moral guilt ; in the other, we only af- 
firm an individual share in the universal frail- 
ty of poor fallen humanity. It is the vice of 
some men to be deceitful ; it is the misfortune 
C2 



30 THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

of all to come into the world with deceitful 
hearts. 

The degree of this deceitfulness of the heart 
is confessedly great. The prophet uses no 
measured terms — " it is deceitful above all 
thingsJ^ When we trace it in its effects, this 
expression will not be considered extravagant, 
nor resolved into mere " Eastern hyperbole." 
That which deceives «//, and deceives all with 
ease, whether defective or acute in penetra- 
tion, whether weak or strong in the faith, wheth- 
er aware of its wiles, and armed against its 
assaults, or sitting in fancied security, whether 
with their will or against it, may surely be 
pronounced " deceitful above all things ;" and 
all this does the deceitful heart. It has put to 
naught the wisdom of the sage, and triumphed 
over the piety of the saint ; causing the wise 
man to become a fool, and the righteous man 
to " fall from his steadfastness." Over the un- 
godly it proves its power, by causing them to 
trust implicitly in its guidance, and then abu- 
sing the misplaced confidence to their ruin, by 
causing their evil way to "seem right unto" 
them, although " the end thereof is the cham- 
bers of death," and by crying to them " Peace, 
peace," and inducing them to believe the assu- 
rance, although the God of truth has declared 
from the heavens, and proclaimed over the 
wide earth, that " there is no peace to the wick- 
ed." And the righteous show their sense of it 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 81 

in their fears, their watchings, and, alas ! we 
must add, in their occasional discomfitures. 

The first specific manifestation of this de- 
ceitful heart which we shall notice is its appa- 
rently unnatural reaction upon self, that is, 
upon its possessor. Metaphysicians may pos- 
sibly object to this distinction of man from him- 
self — this consideration of the heart as separate 
from, and acting upon, its possessor ; but the 
phraseology is current, and well understood by 
plain persons. Just as certainly as the body 
can injure itself, and the outward man destroy 
himself, just so certainly can the heart deceive 
itself, and the inward or spiritual man be in- 
strumental to his own undoing. 

It is a strange, but still a certain and melan- 
choly truth, that men are generally their own 
worst enemies, and that most of their corrup- 
tions and calamities are chargeable upon them- 
selves. They are, indeed, in the present world 
linked by various and strong ties to others, on 
whom their happiness or misery is in a certain 
degree dependant ; they are so much aflfected 
by various circumstances over which they 
have little or no control, as to be termed, not 
unaptly, the " very creatures of circumstance ;" 
and they are exposed to temptations from 
within and from without; from the world 
around them, and the world of spirits beyond 
them. "All these things are indeed against 
them," and have been plausibly and boldly 
urged by some, as virtual and valid apologies 



32 THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

for all sin and all error. The spirit of self-ex- 
cuse, which began with the first sin that de- 
filed the earth, still continues to deceive its in- 
habitants. There is still the same shifting of 
the blame from the personal offender to some 
primary instigator, some remote agent, some 
proximate accessory. Things as well as per- 
sons, human events, or supposed superhuman 
agencies, are seized upon as the convenient 
scapegoats of human iniquity. One pleads the 
iron force of destiny or of necessity ; another 
solaces himself with the pleasing thought that, 
at the worst, he is haplessly bound around with 
a chain or combination of circumstances which 
he cannot break ; another, that he was misled 
by the counsels or example of human corrupt- 
ers ; and another, that he was tempted by the 
arch-deceiver ; so that, were we to admit every 
plea that is offered in bar of judgment, in ex- 
tenuation of self, we should find no original, in- 
dependent, responsible transgressors in the 
world ; and when the Judge should come to 
institute an inquiry, and to mete out retribu- 
tion, there would be no subjects for punish- 
ment, but many objects oi great compassion. 
I By such vain conceits and fallacious reason- 
ings, however, ^- let no man deceive himself" 
in a restricted sense, subordinately to the 
watchings of his good providence, and the mo- 
nitions of his good Spirit, God has made each 
of us his own keeper, and intrusted to his per- 
sonal care the conservation of his own happi- 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 33 

ness. We are individual and independent 
agents, and each one shall bear his own respon- 
sibility, and be answerable for his own sin. 
" The father shall not bear the iniquity of the 
son, nor the son that of the father." The tempt- 
er shall not screen the tempted, nor shall the 
enticing leader bear the guilt of his deluded 
follower. The attempts of others, indeed, to 
lead us astray will be charged to them as their 
sin, but the yielding to those attempts will be 
imputed to us as ours. No man can be com- 
pletely deluded by others who does not first de- 
ceive himself. So that, after all the subtle rea- 
sonings of ingenious self-defence, " the deceit- 
ful heart," acting upon itself, is at last in fault. 
We have pronounced this reaction of the 
heart upon itself to be unnatural ; and assured- 
ly it is so. We read (whether truly or fabu- 
lously, it matters little) of serpents, which, in 
the agony of a wounded body, or in the impo- 
tency of unavailing rage, turn their fangs upon 
themselves, and infuse their own venom into 
the life-blood of their own veins, to their speedy 
death. Man, instigated by the " Old Serpent," 
that " murderer from the beginning," occasion- 
ally lifts up his arm, not merely against a broth- 
er's life, but to shed the more sacred blood 
which courses through his own veins. Nature 
shudders at the act, and society, indignant and 
abhorrent at its perpetration, casts out the self- 
dishonoured corpse from all the decencies and 
charities of Christian sepulture — from all the 



34 THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

sacred associations and sympathies connected 
with consecrated ground — from that city of the 
dead, which the calls and actings of God, and 
not the rashness of man, has peopled. Now 
we can view it in no other light than as a sui- 
cidal act, when the spirit, the heart, thus turns 
its venom upon itself, poisons the springs of its 
own purity and happiness, and at last destroys 
its own spiritual life. 

There are two great classes of these self-de- 
ceived, that is, of those whom the " deceitful 
heart" misleads. The one are abused uncon- 
sciously by this deceptive heart ; the other are 
wittingly and willingly deceived — accessaries 
to the fraud that is practised upon themselves. 
The first are either ignorant of their danger, or 
heedless of its prevention. They are honest in 
intention, and apparently resolute in purpose. 
They neither design evil, nor suspect its pos- 
sibility. Even when warned of that possibili- 
ty, their language is, " Is thy servant a dog, 
that he should do these things ?" 

In regard to all the evidences and warnings 
of spiritual danger, they seem to be blind, and 
deaf, and " slow of heart to believe." In this 
spirit they go forth adventurously, if not pre- 
sumptuously; and in the same spirit they fall 
grievously, causing the " enemy to blaspheme." 
The tempter of their souls comes to them in 
" an hour that they think not of," in a place 
where they least expect him, in a guise which 
they could not suspect, and with honeyed words 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 55 

of persuasive eloquence, and alluring baits of 
enticement which they cannot resist. He 
seems to them to stand in the very Eden of 
God ; he is " transformed (to their eye) into an 
angel of light ;" he seems to speak to them the 
language of heavenly wisdom, to counsel them 
for their good, to urge them to their happiness. 
The evil and deceitful heart within them is 
leagued with him for their delusion, whispering 
that his counsel is just, and that the way of en- 
joyment is made plain before them. What 
wonder, then, if, in an evil hour, they should 
stretch forth the hand, and " pluck and eat ;" 
and if, coming too late to " the knowledge of 
evil" as well as " good," their eyes being open- 
ed to perceive that they are " poor, and help- 
less, and naked," they should cower amid some 
of the pitiful subterfuges of earth, as though the 
eye and the arm of Jehovah could not reach 
them there ; and, called forth by his piercing 
interrogation, addressed to them through their 
conscience, " Where art thou ?" " Why hast 
thou hid thyself?" " What hast thou done ^" 
they should feel with bitterness, and plead in 
extenuation, sensible to themselves that the 
plea was vain — that the heart to which they 
trusted was " deceitful above all things," and 
that they had become the victims of its guile ! 
Yet of these the sin is comparatively venial. 
They fall rather through infirmity and surprise 
than through deliberation ; and when they 
come to themselves," when they awake from 



36 THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

their delusion, " as one awaketh out of wine," 
feeling that they have been disgracefully over- 
come, yet scarcely knowing how they have 
been overcome, they are generally filled with 
shame and confusion, and humble themselves 
before God and man. They " repent and do 
their first works," and God, we may scriptu- 
rally trust, will accept their repentance. Their 
personal and bitter experience of the deceitful- 
ness of the heart will, we may hope, make 
them more stable in the way of righteousness. 
Having received the record of pardon, when 
they had deserved and expected the sentence 
of death, there is ground to believe that they 
will " go and sin no more." 

There is, however, another class who are 
willingly and wittingly deluded by the deceit- 
ful heart ; to whom the deception is pleasant, 
as it seems to enlarge the boundaries of indul- 
gence. These cheerfully lend themselves to 
the work of self-infatuation. It costs them 
more of time and trouble, and searching of 
heart, to force themselves into the belief of a 
lie, and the practice of sin, than it would to 
receive and weigh the varied evidences of the 
truth, and to learn the discipline of righteous- 
ness. " The deceitful heart," instead of being 
resisted and regulated, is nourished and cher- 
ished, and encouraged to repeat its flatteries 
and falsehoods. Now it is possible, after 
many doubts and misgivings, at last to settle 
down into a delusion that is comparatively 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 37 

quiet and comfortable, and, at the same time, 
fatal and irreversible. It is possible to hear 
the reiteration of known errors, until the mind 
becomes accustomed to entertain them, loses 
sight of their true character, and finally mis- 
takes them for truth. It was once well re- 
marked, that •• a man may at length come to 
believe his own lie ;"* and doubtless there are 
many veterans in the ifields of embellished 
narrative, and falsely-boasted achievement, 
who would be willing to do battle for the 
truth of their doubtful and doubted tales, and 
who would die in the firm faith of their au- 
thenticity. 

The class of these willingly deceived is 
numerous, embracing alike the deluded in sen- 
timent and the depraved in hfe. Under it 
must be ranked those who, " not liking to retain 
God in their knowledge," strive, contrary to 
evidence, conviction, nature, and feeling, to 
reason themselves out of the belief of his exist- 
ence, or, at least, out of the behef of his pres- 
ence, his providence, his moral government, 
and his future retribution. 
. It embraces those also who, impatient of 
the moral restraints and holy requisitions of 
the Gospel, endeavour to free themselves at 
once, by cheating themselves into the per- 
suasion that the yoke which they find so gall- 
ing was fashioned and imposed by the hand 

* By the late Dr. John M. Mason, D.D., of New-York, Pro- 
vost of Columbia College. 

D 



38 THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

of man, and not of God ; that it was the con- 
trivance of priestcraft, or of state policy, to 
cramp the energies and overawe the spirits 
of a subject world. In order, indeed, to cher- 
ish this persuasion, with such confidence as 
would measurably ensure their comfort, they 
must eradicate early and deep impressions; 
combat, with a settled and reasonable prepos- 
session, in its favour ; stifle the best feelings, 
and extinguish the holiest hopes of their being. 
All this they would gladly do ; but fearful lest 
their own hearts, deceitful as they are, should 
not be able to beguile them into a skepticism 
sufficiently stable for their comfort, they flee 
for confirmation in their infidelity to any bold 
pretender who may boast the skill of teaching 
unbelief, surely and thoroughly, in a few easy 
lessons. They " compass sea and land" to 
make themselves the " proselytes" of infidel- 
ity, only that when they are so they may be 
"tenfold more the children of" corruption 
than they were before. Nominally their pros- 
elytism is complete, but virtually it is never 
so. They do but half believe what they en- 
tirely profess. Enough of original conviction 
still remains to mar all the satisfaction they 
would otherwise receive from their more re- 
cent and unsettling theories. They are ever 
and anon harassed by the intruding thought, 
that the truth is with those whom they have 
left. The heart within them, wicked and de- 
ceitful as it is, still feels, and bitterlv feels, its 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 39 

severance from the peaceful and once-loved 
" household of faith." Like the ejected spirit 
in the Saviour's parable, it has wandered over 
" dry places, seeking rest," but " finding none ;" 
and " it begins to say to itself," O that I could 
" return unto my house whence I came out !" 
Many " a longing, lingering look" does it cast 
towards the object of its first faith and love ; 
but it feels that between it and them sin and 
skepticism have caused " a great" and an im- 
passable " gulf to be fixed." It experiences 
many relentings, and yearnings, and drawings 
towards the Author of salvation ; but they are 
all counteracted by its loss of moral strength 
— by its impotence to moral good — by the in- 
domitable pride of professed opinion^ — by the 
perversion of its feelings — by the loss of its 
reverential impressions, and by that ultimate 
searedness of conscience w^hich ever follows 
in the train of wilfully-acquired infidelity. 

This, then, is the operation of the deceitful 
heart upon those w^ho are willing that it 
should deceive them. It enables them to 
apostatize from God, but not to be at ease in 
their apostacy ; to reject their Saviour, and 
still not to expect salvation without him. 
After all their efforts to become j^rm believers 
in unbeliefs this, at last, is their pitiable state — 
to be left, amid the wanings of age or of dis- 
ease, at the close of life, on the verge of eter- 
nity, poor miserable doubters of the safety of 
their own doubting creed, to lie down in death 



40 THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

under the awful apprehension that it may not 
be annihilation ; and after death to prove that 
it is not amid the unending torments of the 
eternal world. 

The deceitful heart has now been traced in 
its influence upon self Let us examine next 
its influence upon the conduct and conversa- 
tion among men. To these it naturally lends 
a false colouring. The same principle which 
would prompt us " to think of ourselves more 
highly than we ought to think," would, from 
its very nature, dispose us to seek the favour 
and the applause of men by unfair means, and 
to " appear outwardly righteous before men, 
without being, indeed, inwardly righteous in 
" the temper and disposition of our souls." We 
allude now not to the quahty of deceitfulness 
in the peculiar and restricted use of the term, 
but merely to that assumption of fictitious 
character, that semblance of excellencies not 
really possessed, which is so common in the 
world. As in the vegetable kingdom, some 
of its largest productions, some of its fairest 
and most tempting fruits, are those which are 
hollow at the heart or at the core ; so in the 
moral world, with a fair and imposing outside 
show, we often find hollowness and rottenness 
within, A distinction must here be observed 
between a mere decent regard to the opinion 
of the world, or a desire to preserve appear- 
ances for religion's sake, and the hypocritical 
pretension to a state of feeling, a stamp of 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 41 

character not possessed, with a view to impo- 
sition upon others, and applause or esteem to 
self. The former may be prompted by the 
renewed heart, and is entirely consistent with 
the character of a good man ; the latter is the 
offspring of the deceitful heart, and is in per- 
fect accordance wdth its origin. It has been 
well said, " that no man is a hero before his 
valet-de-chambre." Carrying out the same 
idea, we may say, that no man is entirely 
alike in public and m private. The presence 
of strangers, especially of those whose piety 
we revere, whose approbation w^e desire, or 
whose censure we dread, does impose a re- 
straint of which all must be conscious, and 
under which we all speak and act with pecu- 
liar guardedness and care. The very best of 
men have their little blemishes and foibles. 
These afford proper subjects for personal 
humiliation, for self-discipline and self-correc- 
tion. But surely they need not be displayed 
to every eye, nor proclaimed, as from the 
housetop, to every ear. Nay, there is an 
instinctive feehng, a chariness of character, 
closely allied to the great law and desire of 
self-preservation, which pleads for their re- 
moval from common observation. We as 
naturally endeavour to throw over them the 
mantle of charitable concealment, as we 
would, in the event of an unexpected intru- 
sion into the domestic circle, remove from 
sight any unseemly object, or cease from any 
D2 



42 THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

private avocations or converse with w^hich 
strangers had nothing to do. In yielding to 
this strong and common impulse, we do but 
act with that tenderness towards ourselves 
which the great law of Christian charity bids 
us exercise towards our brethren. We are 
bidden to " love others as ourselves," but we 
are nowhere commanded to love ourselves 
less than them. And this impulse derives ad- 
ditional force from the salutary fear, ever 
present to a pious and a Christian mind, of 
wounding the friends or imboldening the ene- 
mies of religion. This decorous regard to 
appearances, then, springing from a sense of 
self-respect, respect for the opinion of the 
world, and zeal for the honour of God, is 
widely different from systematic hypocrisy; 
from the entire assumption of a character to 
which we have no claims ; from always going 
abroad in a mask. The good man would 
rather hide than obtrude even his infirmities, 
because they arei nconsistent with the gener- 
al rectitude of which he is humbly and thank- 
fully conscious, and the attractiveness of 
Avhich he would be loth to mar. The evil 
man, in order to deceive others, feigns quali- 
ties and apes a character which are, in fact, 
the very opposite of his own. The difference 
is here obvious. Yet such is the perfect sin- 
gleness and sincerity of genuine religion, that 
even this instinctive desire to avoid " all ap- 
pearance of evil" is never permitted to in- 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 43 

fringe upon a sacred regard to truth, to pre- 
vent candid acknowledgments and humble 
confessions on the proper occasions, nor to 
spoil thai openness and ingenuousness of de- 
meanour which is inseparable from a guile- 
less spirit, and which never fails to adorn 
unpretending piety. The motto which is 
written upon the heart, and assented to by 
the lips of every real Christian, is, that we 
should rather labour to he what we wish to 
appear than strive to appear what we are not : 
a sentiment which has been so often and so 
variously expressed, as to render it difficult to 
ascertain to whom it is to be originally as- 
cribed, and to have become, in fact, the com- 
mon maxim and common property of the reli- 
gious public."^ 

There is something sufficiently revolting in 
the attempt to impose upon men. There is, 
however, something horrible and impious 
even in the thought of imposing upon God, 
of "lying unto the Holy Ghost;" and yet 
even to this extent men are occasionally car- 
ried by the evil promptings of the deceitful 
heart.f Seriously, indeed, and after due re- 

* The sentiment, however, will be found, formally expressed, 
in the writings of the pious Cecil. 

t Men may be unconsciously betrayed into the loss of " godly 
sincerity" by the determination and effort to reconcile manifest 
inconsistencies and contradictions— by exercising Themselves in 
the arts of evasion and ingenious explanation, in order to get 
round difficulties which, to an ingenuous mind, would be insur- 
mountable—by giving to language, plain and obvious in its im- 
port, a forced and unnatural construction, to serve a turn, and 
by stretching conscience, to make it embrace propositions or 



44 THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

flection, the idea could scarcely be enter- 
tained that God could be deceived, since all 
who believe in him at all must acknowledge 
his omniscience ; that to him are known all 
the secrets of the heart. The mockery, then, 
of seeming, but heartless devotion, must origi- 
nally aim at the deception of man rather than 
of God, and be a part of that systematic 
imposition which has already been noticed ; 
and yet the ease with which men mistake the 
mere externals and formularies of devotion for 
devotion itself, the entire complacency with 
which they rest in their observance, and even 
challenge to themselves a certain degree of 
credit with men, and of meetness for reward 
before God, show the danger of settling down 
at last into the practical adoption of the impi- 
ous thought, that the motives of action, the de- 
signs and workings of the heart, may be con- 
cealed from God ; and that he contemplates 
and will reward acts rather than principles. 
Enter into a Christian assembly ! What a de- 
lightful spectacle do we there behold ! How 
many traces present themselves of solemn feel- 
ing, of devout engagedness ! How difficult is 
it, perhaps, for the most practised eye to dis- 
cern, by the outward appearance, between the 
sincere behever and the worldling — between 
"him that feareth God and him that feareth 

systems against which it at first revolts. All such attempts or 
habits of action injure the moral sense, and may end in its 
complete perversion. 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 45 

him not !" How natural would be the im- 
pression that this was indeed " an assembly 
of the saints," " among whom God was great- 
ly feared," and that they were assembled 
to " glorify him as though with one heart and 
one voice." Yet, alas ! is it a breach of 
charity — is it aught but the expression of 
an unavoidable yet painful conviction to as- 
sert, that much of this is the semblance of 
devotion rather than its reality ? that with 
many the heart has little or no concern in the 
homage of the bended knee — the accents of 
prayer or praise that fall from the lips — the at- 
titude of deep attention, while the ear seems to 
court and welcome, and drink in with delight 
every word of exhortation ? Would it not be 
a refinement upon charity to imagine that the 
Christian sanctuary presented no scenes nor 
actors similar to those in the Jewish synagogue 
in EzekieFs day ? that among us there are none 
" who come as God's people cometh, and sit 
before him as his people, and hear his words 
and will not do them ?" who " with their mouth 
show much love, but whose heart goeth after 
covetousness ?" to whom the voice of the min- 
istering servant is " as a very lovely song of 
one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play 
well upon an instrument ?" who have " set up 
their idols in their heart, and the stumbling- 
block of their iniquity before their face ?" And 
is it not most reasonable to suppose that God 
would now say, as he did to their prototypes 



46 THE DECEITFUL HEART. 

of old, " Are ye come to inquire of me ? As I 
live, I will not be inquired of by you." 

The privileges of the sanctuary, and an ac- 
tive participation in its solemnities, are not, in- 
deed, to be restricted to those only who are un- 
der the full influence of religious feeling. This 
would be a most condemnable " shutting up of 
the kingdom of heaven against men." The 
fact that men are not religiously disposed, so 
far from excluding them from the ordinances 
of public worship, is the very reason why they 
should seek them the more earnestly, and be 
admitted to them the more freely. Viewing 
these ordinances as means of grace and con- 
version, we must feel that they were especial- 
ly intended for those who most need " the grace 
that bringeth salvation." If the righteous re- 
quire them for their comfort and their growth 
in grace, others need them still more to quick- 
en them to repentance — to " renew in them a 
right spirit" — to give them the first breathings 
of the spiritual life — the first elements of the 
Christian character. 

Even among worldly and unsanctified men, 
too, an attendance upon the sanctuary, a decent 
and respectful compliance with its external 
forms, an observance of the appropriate deco- 
rums of time and place, would not justify the 
sweeping charge of deliberate hypocrisy. A 
general and perfectly sincere respect for reli- 
gion and its institutions— the latent desire or 
hope of obtaining a special and individual in- 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 47 

terest in its benefits ; the overawing influence 
of its doctrines and services ; the operation of 
the social principle, and an irresistible sympa- 
thy with those w^ho do " worship God in spirit 
and in truth" — these will sufficiently account 
for their apparent devoutness, without resort- 
ing to the uncharitable solution that they are 
feigning what they do not feel, and *• playing 
antics before high heaven." And God forbid 
that any dark, unworthy suspicions, any harsh 
imputations on the part of the confessedly reli- 
gious, should turn their feet wholly from God's 
house, or make them feel, while there, that they 
might only be cold and careless spectp.tors, lest 
any exhibition of lively feeling should put in 
question their sincerity, and lest their very 
" prayer" should be deemed " an abomination 
before God." 

Yet assuredly there is danger that this par- 
ticipation in the outward duties, w^ithout the 
inward and life-giving spirit of devotion, may 
end, if it did not begin, in hypocrisy. The 
means may soon be mistaken for the end ; 
" the form" substituted for " the power of god- 
liness ;" and the deceiving and deceived heart 
may forget its own hollo wness in the loud tone 
and orthodox language of its professions. The 
seeming worshipper, himself cheated into a be- 
lief of his own sincerity, may at length, with 
the Pharisee, thank God for his observances and 
offerings, when he ought to be " smiting upon 
his breast," and asking forgiveness for " the 



48 THE DECEIVED HEART. 

iniquity," the dread iniquity, of what ought to 
have been " his holy things." He may pride 
himself upon services, the very remembrance 
of which should fill him with shame, and hum- 
ble him to the dust. This is the last exhibition 
we shall present of " the deceitful heart." May 
the guilt ' which it involves, and the conse- 
quences to which it naturally leads, tend to 
open the eyes and awaken the repentance of 
those " who have a name to live, while they are 
counted dead before God." 



CHAPTER III. 



THE DECEIVED HEART. 



" He feedeth on ashes : a deceived heart hath turned him 
aside, that he cannot turn again and deliver his own soul." 

" If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that 
darkness!" 

" Take hped to j^ourselves that your heart be not deceived." 

Erroneous principles are often esteemed 
but little dangerous, provided the heart be right 
in its intentions and feelings. The kind and 
accommodating creed of modern liberalism 
makes it a matter of minor importance who is 
worshipped, or how he is worshipped, if there 
be only sincerity in the worshipper. Now the 
great difficulty in the way of this pseudo-chari- 
ty is, that it proves so much, and extends so 



THE DECEIVED HEART. 49 

far, as to equalize all truth and falsehood, all 
right and wrong. It sets out, moreover, with a 
supposition which in itself involves an impos- 
sibility ; for the heart is not, and cannot be, 
right when it is subject to the warping influ- 
ence of erroneous and debasing views, when 
it enshrines principles that are radically wrong 
in its holiest sanctuary of feeling, guards them 
with its most watchful jealousy, and imbodies 
them in action with its most fervent enthusi- 
asm and its most active zeal. 

" He feedeth on ashes," said the evangelic 
prophet, in reference to the maker and wor- 
shipper of idols, whose folly he had so sarcas- 
tically and inimitably exposed ; " a deceived 
heart hath turned him aside that he cannot de- 
liver his soul, nor say. Is there not a lie in my 
right hand ?" If the reader will be at the pains 
to consult the forceful chapter in which these 
words occur, he will doubtless acknowledge 
that the keenness of the satire is proportioned 
to the fatuity and heinousness of the offence. 
It furnishes us with a case admirably in point. 
Those against whom it directs its pointed sar- 
casm were doubtless sincere, A species bf 
zeal sent them out to the forest to choose their 
tree, cheered their labours while they were 
" making it after the figure of a man, accord- 
ing to trie beauty of a man." With a liberali- 
ty worthy of a better cause, they lavished the 
Silver and the gold for its covering and adorn- 
ing. There was piety in their hearts when 
E 



50 THE DECEIVED HEART. 

they knelt before its shrine, and fervour in the 
suppFcations which they there poured forth, in 
the sacrifices which they unsparingly offered. 
We see the confidence of assured belief in 
their system stamped upon their every word 
and act. Sensitively alive to the honour of 
their chosen idols, shocked at the very idea of 
unbelief in their power, prompt to punish dis- 
respect to their altars as sacrilege, they would 
have been ready, if need required, to war or 
to die in their cause. According to a fashion- 
able hypothesis, then, their unquestionable sin- 
cerity should have excused and sanctified their 
manifest delusion ; and they should have been 
as much accepted when they bowed them- 
selves, in the darkness of their benighted un- 
derstandings, before " the stocks and the 
stones," " called upon Baal," or " poured out 
drink-offerings to the queen of heaven," as 
though they had been worshipping Jehovah 
with a rational and a holy worship. Yet what 
is the fact ? What saith the inspired record ? 
After all this laborious zeal and costly devo- 
tion, it gives the disparaging comment that 
they are " feeding on ashes ; that a deceived 
heart hath turned them aside ;" that" these 
'" makers of graven images are all of them vani- 
ty ;" and " that their delectable things shall not 
profit." 

Here, then, is the case of men who were 
sincerely and systematically devout, while 
every step in their course was a new remove 



THE DECEIVED HEART. 51 

from truth, from God, and from salvation. 
The bhndness of the mind deceived and per- 
verted even the willing heart ; and this deceiv- 
ed heart, acting on false principles andjinder 
a gross delusion, turned them into the path- 
way of error and death ; and the delusion so 
increased and thickened around them, that 
they could " by no means deliver their own 
soul," nor even ascertain that there was a flaw 
in their principles, " a lie in their right hand."* 

This may possibly be imagined an extreme 
case, resulting entirely from the fact of their 
having forsaken the true God. But we think 
that it may be shown that similar results follow 
from all error, in a proportionate degree, even 
when men ignorantly or improperly worship 
the true God. Incorporate falsehood or mis- 
take with the principles of action, and " the 
deceived heart" must turn men aside from the 
truth ; and in exact proportion to the gross- 
ness of the error will be the improbabihty of 
its discovery and renunciation. 

To exemplify this : let one mistake the spirit 
of true religion and the character of God, 
blindly supposing that error, however uninten- 

* A similar delusion, springing from sincere but mistaken de- 
votion, might be feared as a natural result from the veneration 
of images, relics, &c., especially in the case of the credulous and 
ignorant, the increasing strength of a false dependance being 
easily misconstrued into an evidence of deepening piety and 
greater spiritual safety. 

The same effect will also be perceived, in a proportionate de- 
gree, from all that tends to make men rest in the mere externals 
of religion, in forms and ceremonies, as of independent impor- 
tance and efficacy. 



52 THE DECEIVED HEART. 

tional, justifies the utmost fury of persecution, 
and at once he will make the religion of mercy 
a plea for deeds of cruelty. There is on rec- 
ord the case of one who " verily thought with 
himsalf that he ought to do many things con- 
trary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth ;" and 
we have the assurance of the same Jesus, ver- 
ified by the subsequent history of the world, 
that times and occasions would come, " when 
whosoever killed his disciples should think that 
he did God service." 

Let another act under a wrong impression 
of the Divine supremacy and sovereignty, with 
an unfeigned abhorrence of all interference 
with God in his arbitrary work, and this man 
will suffer his children to grow up in igno- 
rance and crime, violating express commands, 
which bade him "train up a child in the way 
in which he should go," and " bring up his 
children in the nurture and admonition of the 
Lord," from a mere speculative idea that it is 
impious to work before God works, or with him 
when he does work. These children will be- 
come, perhaps, the very " children of Belial," 
while upon himself will rest the guilt and the 
curse of poor old Eli ; and when that curse lies 
heavy on him, amid the crushings of his hopes, 
and the blight of his prospects, and the ruin of 
his house, instead of repenting him of his pa- 
rental neglect, he will perhaps comfort himself 
with the thought that he has left all to God, 
and try to reason himself into a forced and 



THE DECEIVED HEART. 53 

Stoical acquiescence with what he deems the 
decree of God against their salvation, when he 
ought to be weeping over his own connivance 
at their undoing, and thinking how far " their 
blood may be required at his hands !" 

Here, certainly, it is the mental error which 
deceives the heart — and the deceived heart 
which furnishes the mistaken principle of ac- 
tion — and the mistaken principle of action ♦« 
which leads to evil, if not condemning results. 
We might, in a similar manner, trace the 
course of many other common mistakes in re- 
ligion, but they all tend to the same point, and 
convey one and the same caution. In them 
all we are only struck with the danger and 
the mischief of having " the heart deceived" 
by the specious, but fals^ reasonings of the 
head ; of having it to do wrong, with all the 
good intention, and zeal, and engagedness of 
supposed doing right. 

And in this kind of self-deception there is 
something very hopeless. When men sin from 
the love of it, there is hope that their trans- 
gressions may stare them in the face — that the 
bitterness of the fruits of iniquity may cause 
them to " eschew evil and do good." But not 
so in this case. The conscience which should 
guide them is itself deceived. " The light that 
is in them is darkness, and how great is that 
darkness !" They sin conscientiously — sin on 
principle. The offence is religiously commit- 
ted, and it is a part of their religion to retain 
E2 



54 THE DECEIVED HEART. 

and to glory in it. In all such cases, if there 
be change, it must come from without, and not 
from within. The soul would resist the first 
breathings c£ doubt, the first incipient desires 
for a change, as treason against its principles, 
as a sin against its light. So that, unless some 
providential circumstances should compel their 
attention to the evidence of truth, or unless 
^ God should specially enlighten and move them 
by his good Spirit, the honest votaries of error 
seem doomed to have its chains riveted forev- 
er. And this w^ill account satisfactorily for 
the perpetuity of many of those delusions w^hich 
seem so gross, that we naturally wonder that 
they have not fallen by their own weight — so 
unsound through all their parts, that their ad- 
hesion during so long a period is a very mys- 
tery. It is piety, mistaken piety, that has 
thrown around them an imaginary sacredness 
— guarded them with jealous vigilance — prop- 
ped up their weakness with the pillars of her 
own strength, and kept them together by her 
powerful cement. 

If such be the crippling power of error, if 
it thus maims the whole intellectual and spir- 
itual man, incapacitating him for efficient and 
profitable action, how devotedly should we 
all cling to " the truth as it is in Jesus," and 
implore and follow the guidance of that good 
Spirit, who alone can " guide us into all truth." 
Suffer not, O Lord, " a deceived heart to turn 
us aside" from the path of thy commandments, 



THE DECEITFUL HEART. 55 

but keep us by thy Word and Holy Spirit, 
" that we may have a right judgment in all 
things, and evermore rejoice in his holy com- 
fort, through thy Son, our Lord." 

But again : the heart may be deceived by 
the corruption of the life. 

This, if not so hopeless of cure as that al- 
ready noticed, is certainly more guilty. We 
may hope that God will " show mercy" to 
those who " sin ignorantly and in unbelief," 
who cherish the wrong, believing it to be the 
right ; but no extenuation suggests itself to 
the most benevolent heart for that delusion 
which originates in a confirmed love of ini- 
quity. Let the debasing effect of habitual sin 
once have triumphed over the original con- 
victions of rectitude, so that what was once 
acknowledged to be sinful is deemed innocent, 
and, unless there be some sudden and pow- 
erful stroke to break the spell, some startling 
providence, or some unusual appeal of the 
grace of God, the grossness of perception and 
the deadness to feeling will increase with 
every year's continuance in sin. I tremble 
for that man whose arguments are his lusts ; 
who has held " the lie in his right hand" until 
he would sooner lose that right hand than 
relinquish it ; whose heart is deceived, because 
he dreads to have it undeceived, " There is 
more hope of a fool than of him." He is sunk 
in the imbecile helplessness of a paralyzed 
spirit, and he wants not merely the energy to 



56 THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY 

seek, but the heart to desire, renovation. Let 
all, then, guard w^ith peculiar care against that 
worst of delusions, which is reflected back to 
the mind from an evil heart, or to the heart 
from an evil life. It is hard indeed to dissi- 
pate the mystic influence of superstition, and 
to convince him who worships an idol, believ- 
ing it to be God, that it is only wood or stone. 
But he who cares not what it is, and worships 
it only because he delights to sit at its impure 
feasts, and to mingle in its hcentious rites, will 
probably worship it to the end, and resolve 
that it shall be his god, because it is the pan- 
der to his evil appetites, and the patron of his 
unhallowed indulgences ! 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY OF THE HUMAN HEART. 

♦' The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately 
wicked." 

" How shall he be clean that is born of a woman ?" 

*' Whence hath this man ail these things ?" 

" Behold ! I was shapen in iniquity." 

" Out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulter- 
ies," &c., &c. 

The native corruption of the human heart 
is not a matter of mere opinion, but oi fact, to 
be decided by the evidence of facts. Its the- 



OF THE HUMAN HEART. 57 

oretical discussion, as a mere speculative tenet, 
has served " to darken counsel," while it need- 
lessly mult'plied w^ords. The direct appeal to 
experience and to facts relieves the subject 
from much of its seeming perplexity, and 
brings it within narrow and well-defined lim- 
its. 

That corruption does exist, that moral evil 
is in the world, is not denied. Few, if any, 
would contend for absolute human impecca- 
bility. Should any carry their views to that 
extent, the test of our Lord, " Let him that is 
without sin among you cast the first stone," 
could scarcely be applied in vain. The ques- 
tion, then, concerns not the existence, but the 
origin of corruption in us individually. It is 
here that the two prominent hypotheses on 
the subject separate : the one resolving it en- 
tirely into the result of imitation, and the other 
contending that it is inherent in our nature; 
that we are horn the heirs of corruption. The 
entirely opposite directions in which these 
branch off account for the subsequent and 
wide difference between them, through the 
entire course of doctrinal theology. It is im- 
possible, in the very nature of things, that they 
should at all coincide ; but they must of neces- 
sity go farther and farther from each other, 
until each has been carried to its ultimate 
limit. The views entertained in reference to 
a Saviour and a Sanctifier follow in each case 
respectively, from the impressions under which 



58 THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY 

investigation is commenced, and from the point 
tov^ards which the inquirer has resolutely " set 
his face." The mind w^ill naturally decide 
upon the agents of spiritual restoration, and 
upon the Gospel as a restorative system, in 
accordance v^ith the ideas previously held of 
our state and condition by nature. We are 
prepared to expect from the firm assertor of 
derived and radical corruption the consistent 
acknowledgment of the consequent doctrines of 
atonement and sanctification ; while it is equal- 
ly natural to imagine that he who contended for 
native inherent innocence would also contend 
for native inherent power, an ability for self- 
sanctification ; that his theory of sinning hy 
imitation would be content with a Saviour 
who should save us, not by an adequate atone- 
ment, but by a lustrous and constraining ex- 
ample. Let us see, then, which theory, as to 
the origin and existence of personal corrup- 
tion, is the best supported by reason, facts, 
and Scripture ! 

Before entering upon the full consideration 
of the facts and evidences that go to support 
the theory of a depraved nature, it may be 
proper to premise that the theory of imitation 
does not seem to meet the demands of the 
case, since it is not universally applicable, and 
since, from the nature of the models kept be- 
fore the eye, imitation would often lead natu- 
rally to a state the very opposite from that 
corruption of which it is held the cause and 



OF THE HUMAN HEART. 59 

the solution. Permit me to ask the reader's 
candid and close attention, while I enter into 
a more full exemplification of this. 

The assumption or hypothesis is, that man 
is born pure ; free from any taint or vitiation 
of nature, any predisposition to evil. Why, 
then, let it be asked, should he be necessarily 
contaminated or corrupted by those with whom 
he is constrained to associate ? How came 
they to be so contaminating ? They, too, by 
the hypothesis, were horn pure ; whence, then, 
their corruption ? Was that also derived from 
example ? Then go to their exemplars, and 
from them to theirs ; and thus go on, pushing 
back the tide of human corruption nearer and 
nearer to its source, and to the source of time ; 
transferring the guilt of the child upon the pa- 
rent, of the young upon their seniors, of one 
generation upon that which went before. Con- 
tinue this retrospective and retracing process 
to its utmost limit — where will it land you ? 
At the last it must have an end, for you can 
only go back to the origin of man, the infancy 
of time. Corruption is confessedly universal 
now. Either, then, it was coeval with the cre- 
ation of man, or it was introduced at some pe- 
riod subsequent to that creation. If coeval 
with it, it must be charged upon God, the Cre- 
ator ; and the strange derogatory, if not impi- 
ous idea, must be cherished, that a pure and 
holy being created impure and unholy beings, 
while he still declared that they were created 



60 THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY 

(that is, morally) " in his own image." Or, 
if we take the other ground, and suppose cor- 
ruption to have crept in at some subsequent 
period, we know not how and we know not 
when, still the question will then recur. How 
did it originate ? Whence did the first cor- 
rupter of others become an evildoer, and learn 
his depravity ? Here the theory is at fault. 
Go back to a time when there was no such 
evil example, and, to use the language of a 
distinguished writer, " either virtuous men set 
sinful examples, which is a plain contradiction, 
or men became sinful without s'nful exam- 
ples."* The first murderer did not learn from 
any other to imbue his hands in a brother's 
blood ; his prompting or teaching must have 
been from the heart within, not from the cor- 
ruption without. And a similar difficulty lies 
heavy and irremovable upon the doctrine of 
merely imitative transgression in regard to the 
first commission of any and every other open 
sin. You see in the child of a few years mo- 
tions towards that which is evil, which were 
taught him by no instructor. You find the re- 
cluse, in the calm and sacred quietness of his 
retirement, glowing with the same unhallowed 
fires, and mentally and spiritually prepared for 
the same developments of corruption, which 
are found in the wide and evil world ; and you 
see the nursling of piety, the child whose cra- 
dle was sanctified by the prayers of parental 
* D wight in his Theology, vol. i., ser. 3. 



OF THE HUMAN HEART. 61 

devotion, and whose early steps were guided 
into the way of purity and of peace, and all 
whose early associations were those which 
should have linked him to virtue, still " break- 
ing the bands, and casting away the cords" of 
God, and rushing furiously into the very ex- 
Qesses of evil, even as the horse, no longer 
" held by bit or bridle," " rusheth into the bat- 
tle." 

Passing from general corruption to special 
sins, we often find man's dominant and beset- 
ting sins to be such as characterize none with 
whom he has been in habits of familiar inter- 
course, such as are diametrically opposed to 
his general course of education, and to the ex- 
amples he would naturally have copied. This 
seems irreconcilable with the theory of imita- 
tion, and to plead strongly for an indigenous 
rather than an exotic origin. 

Once more : even where example has been 
pure and has been successful, where it has in- 
duced men to " be followers of that which is 
good," still there have been innate tendencies 
to evil over which it has triumphed, hardly 
triumphed. The tendencies were constitution- 
al, natural, inherent, and proved inherent cor- 
ruption. The example was from without, and, 
so far from accounting for the tendencies or 
promoting their development, stifled them in 
the embryo. Here, then, we have undeveloped 
corruption without example, contrary to exam- 
ple, 2ind put down by virtuous example ! 
F 



62 THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY 

Reasoning philosophically, then, it would 
seem that the theory of imitation must be re- 
jected, as insufficient to account for universal 
depravity. If we are driven from the ground 
of imitative corriiptioii, it only remains for us 
to acknowledge generic corruption, a corrup- 
tion of our whole race, continued and perpetu- 
ated by natural transmission. 

In reasoning with those who admit the scrip- 
tural account of the introduction of sin, we 
have the advantage of a common starting- 
place to which we can go back, of certain 
first principles to w^hich we can recur. But 
this doctrine, or rather fact, of transmission, 
seems to force itself even upon those who 
deny that account. If any, improperly as we 
have seen, should contend that we are now as 
we came out of the Creator's hands, that sin 
was coeval with our race, still, as it has de- 
scended to us (not by mere imitation), that 
descent is evidently transmission, and the 
corruption thus naturally transmitted is cer- 
tainly inherent and generic. 

Supposing, again, corruption to have been 
introduced subsequently and gradually, still the 
vitiation of our nature, whether we date from 
its commencement or its consummation, has 
certainly been perpetuated. Here, again, is 
transmission. Now the scriptural account, 
while it avoids the inconsistencies consequent 
on our supposed creation in sinfulness, and 
also the ambiguity and vagueness of an un- 



OF THE HUMAN HEART. 63 

known origin, still asserts no more than this 
fact of transmission : a fact to which we must 
subscribe, whether we reject or receive that 
account ; for this law of transmission w^e shall 
find to be one of the settled, estabhshed laws 
of animal existence. 

In the book of Job, where the doctrine of 
derived guilt finds a full recognition, and a con- 
spicuous place, it is very pertinently asked, 
" Who can bring a clean thing out of an 
unclean ?" to which it is as pertinently an- 
swered, " Not one f and it would probably 
puzzle those philosophizing objectors, to whom 
this doctrine of derivation is so completely " a 
stone of stumbling and a rock of offence," to 
give any other or better reply. Is it not rea- 
sonable, and in perfect accordance with all the 
analogies of the animal and even vegetable 
creation, to acknowledge the derivation of this 
corruption, no matter when or how we suppose 
it to have originated, from generation to gener- 
ation, and, consequently, its inherency m the 
very elements of the moral constitution 'I Would 
it not argue a suspension, or, rather, an inver- 
sion of that great law of like producing like, 
which we find recorded in the sacred volume, 
and visibly and indelibly impressed upon the 
whole creation of God, if, sin having once en- 
tered into the world, a sinless offspring had de- 
scended from sinful parents ? I enter not here 
into any curious questions concerning the ori- 
gin of the human soul, or the extent to which, 



64 THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY 

consistently with the fact of its being formed 
by God, it takes a bias or colouring from natu- 
ral descent ; but this much is unquestionable, 
that many of the most striking peculiarities, 
not only of body, but of mind, temper, and feel- 
ing, are naturally transmitted. Eccentric hab- 
its of thought, and madness in all its varieties, 
are continued from parent to child, and from 
generation to generation, perhaps for centuries. 
And, to notice a less equivocal case, how often 
do we find a certain singularity of tempera- 
ment, or stamp of character, so long affixed to, 
or identified with a family or kindred, that we 
associate the idea of it with the very name of 
that family or kindred ! Account for this as 
we may, the fact is unquestionable. If, then, 
individual traits maybe communicated through 
a long line of descent, would it not be most 
strange if a general corruption of the whole 
spiritual nature, in those who went before us, 
should not have come down to us ? And, what- 
ever may have been the original excellence, 
do we not observe alike throughout the ani- 
mal and vegetable kingdom, that whenever de- 
generacy or deterioration has commenced, 
through any means or causes whatsoever, it is 
propagated, and even increased, until a change 
is induced in the circumstance ? 

Since, then, corruption, universal corruption, 
without any exceptions, has confessedly exist- 
ed in the ages antecedent to us, I should expect 
a priori, that it would come to us necessarily, 



OF THE HUMAN HEART. 65 

as a part of our inheritance, instead of being 
subsequently fortuitously acquired, by the sim- 
ple process of imitation. 

Let us turn now to the positive evidence of 
our. natural corruption. We have said at the 
outset that it was a question, not of opinion, 
but of fact, to be decided by the evidence of 
facts. To that let us appeal. The first field 
of observation is certainly self. If we are at 
all impartial, consciousness will certainly re- 
veal to us much of what passes within. A 
hasty glance at the external conduct would 
probably enable us to trace many of our mis- 
deeds to corrupt example ; but then, if we 
enter into the secrets of our own hearts, and 
note the mode in which we are affected by 
such example, w^e shall find an innate readi- 
ness for its influence, and a repugnance to 
example of an opposite nature, which evident- 
ly argue a prior and inherent corruption, of 
which external evil merely and easily takes 
hold, and which often eflfectually neutralizes 
external good. The combustible materials of 
evil are antecedently within; temptation, or 
example from without, is only the spark that 
ignites them. In an internal and deep exami- 
nation of this nature, our business is not with 
acts, but with thoughts, sensations, emotions, 
desires, motives, principles, tendencies. Now 
with these, it is contended, imperfection, im- 
purity, and positive sinfulness mingle, and 
these, therefore, independently of external de- 
F2 



66 THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY 

velopments, fix the charge of corruption upon 
our souls. If their promptings be resisted 
from prudential considerations, from moral 
motives, or from the influences of grace, still, 
if we do hut feel them, it is enough to decide 
the point ; and who that knov^s himself will 
say that he feels them not ? Who is there 
that can lay his hand upon his heart, or " lift 
it up tow^ards heaven, and sw^ear by Him that 
liveth forever" that he is never prompted to 
acts which reason, judgment, and conscience 
forbid, or indisposed to duties which he knows 
to be obligatory ? Who is there that is utter- 
ly unconscious of vicious tendencies, not super- 
induced, but evidently constitutional ? Who 
but has often felt, what the apostle so feelingly 
describes, "to will is present with me, but 
how to perform that which is good I find 
not ?" And who is there that has not, under 
this humiliating conviction of perverse incli- 
nation to evil, and impotency to good, occa- 
sionally exclaimed substantially with the same 
apostle, " Oh wretched man that I am, who 
shall dehver me from the body of this death ?" 
Our hearts are here the best witnesses ; and 
they most clearly tell us that we are in a state 
of present and grievous degeneracy, that moral 
derangement and diseases, and destructive ten- 
dencies, as surely characterize the soul as do 
physical evils the body ! Even were conduct 
then universally pure, yet an inspection of our 
hearts would show that we were not ''pure 



OF THE HUMAN HEART. 67 

within ;" how much more, then, are we com- 
pelled to the acknowledgment of our inherent 
depravity, when the whole surface of society 
is defiled by the outpourings and overflowings 
of ungodlmess, when " imperfection mars the 
beauty of (all) holiness," " stains the pride and 
the glory of all excellency ?" when " there is 
not one that doeth perfect righteousness, no^ 
not one," but when the whole earth " mourn- 
eth because of transgressions, and is defiled 
under the inhabitants thereof?" 

From self, let us, then, turn to the world 
around us, take the most favourable specimens 
of human character — look upon that which is 
styled native amiability, in all its attractive- 
ness, and then say if you do not see rather the 
remains, the ruins, the perception of good, and 
the desire after excellence, than full and per- 
fect excellence itself And even Christian, 
sanctified excellence, where the principle is 
perfect, is still imperfect in the execution or 
development, through the hinderance of that 
innate corruption, so that every man that lives 
and breathes, unrenewed or renewed, is a liv- 
ing and speaking proof of its truth. They 
that exhibit it most feel and acknowledge it 
least, but their conduct speaks it for them. 
They that display it least, feel it most, and 
confess it freely ; and iheir feelings and their 
words alike attest that there is a fault, or de- 
pravation of nature, which even grace itself 
cannot wholly subdue. 



68 THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY 

^* Our hearts condemn us" as sinful, and lead 
us to perceive and " condemn sin" in others. 
" God is greater than our hearts, and knoweth 
all things." This corruption, palpable to our- 
selves, could not have escaped his piercing 
ken. Let us mark, then, the testimony of his 
word. " If we receive the witness of men, 
the witness of God is greater J' A mere tran- 
scription of the many and strong texts which 
bear upon the point, without any remark, 
would swell this chapter wholly beyond its 
proper limits. We shall merely point the 
reader to a few of the most express, assured 
that many others will recur to him in the ordi- 
nary course of "bibhcal reading. That strong 
expression from the book of Job, " Who can 
bring a clean thing out of an unclean ? Not 
one." Especially when compared with the 
expression used by Bildad, in the 25th chap- 
ter, " How then can man be justified with 
God ? or how shall he be clean that is born of 
a woman ?" would seem to fix it, as at least the 
sense of that early age, evidently approved of 
God, that we are born in corruption. The 
strong language of the Psalmist, " Behold, I 
was shapen in iniquity, and in sin hath my 
tnother conceived me," attests the continuance 
of the same belief to his day. In Isaiah there 
is evident reference to primeval transgression, 
and to its transmission to us, when God, by 
the prophet, declares, " Put me in remem- 
brance : let us plead together : declare thou, 



OF THE HUMAN HEART. 69 

that thou mayest be justified. Thy first father 
hath sinned, and thy teachers have transgress- 
ed against me." In other words, corruption 
has been from the beginning, and it has ex- 
tended to all, even to the appointed teachers 
of the law. When the prophet Jeremiah de- 
clares that " the heart is deceitful above all 
things, and desperately wicked,^^ he certainly 
does not allude to the corruption of morals or 
principles consequent on imitation, nor to the 
condition of man under some peculiar circumt- 
stances, but to the internal vitiation of the 
principle of action in all men, at all times, 
under all circumstances. The language oT 
the Saviour, already prominently presented to 
the reader's eye, is as decisive as it is compre- 
hensive : " Those things which proceed out of 
the mouth come forth from the heart ; and 
they defile the man. For out of the heart 
proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, 
fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphe- 
mies."* This surely is conclusive. Instead 
of teaching us that the evil influence which 
vitiates thought, feeling, speech, and action, 
comes to us from the external world, it points 
us to the busy little world within. It tells us 
that in the heart is the deep and unfailing 
spring from which gushes forth every stream 
of unholy converse or conduct which defiles 
the man. It is a perfectly gratuitous assump- 
tion to say that the reference is to the heajzt 
previously corrupted by the world, but in itself 
* St. Matthew, XV. - -- 



70 THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY 

naturally good, since the outward manifesta- 
tions of evil, the very words and deeds of 
iniquity, which would most naturally be learn- 
ed from others, are here described as personal, 
as self-originating, and since this imaginary 
natural goodness has not the warrant oi any 
scriptural support. On the contrary, note the 
scriptural delineation of this natural mind or 
heart, or of " the natural man." We are told 
that " the natural man receiveth not the things 
of the Spirit of God, for they are foohshness 
unto him : neither can he know them, because 
they are spiritually discerned."* " The car- 
nal mind is enmity against God : for it is not 
subject to the law of God, neither indeed can 
be."t On individual passages of similar im- 
port I must not detain the reader's attention. 
The evidence which they so convincingly 
afford is rendered complete by a mere refer- 
ence to the general scope and spirit of the 
Scriptures. Instead of the Utopian scheme 
of native innocence, and the original posses- 
sion of all needful inclinations and powers for 
the discharge of present duty, and for the 
attainment of final salvation, the whole Scrip- 
ture system is based on the strongly-asserted 
fact of moral weakness and depravity. On 
any other supposition, the whole Gospel would 
be a nullity and a contradiction. Its Author 
and Finisher is proposed to us as what ? As 
a Physician, a Mediator and Intercessor, a 

* 1 Cor,, ii., 14. f Rom., viii., 7. 



OP THE HUMAN HEART. 71 

Redeemer^ a Saviour. But why bring a Phy^ 
sician to those who are not morally diseased? 
Behold, to use the language of that Physician 
himself, '' they that are whole need not a phy- 
sician, but they that are sick." Why provide 
a Mediato7% an Litercessoi^ to those who w^ere 
not alienated from their Father and their God ; 
who have free access to him themselves ? 
Why speak of a Redeemer to those who were 
not in servitude, and w^ho could justly take up 
the proud and boastful language of the Jew 
of old, " tVe be free ; we were nwer in bond- 
age to any man." Why proclaim a Saviour 
to those to whom the way of salvation is open- 
ed already ; who can save themselves ? Sure- 
ly we cannot imagine the Gospel to be a 
scheme without a design, or a superfluous and 
obtrusive offer of aid to those who were not 
in need. And the fact that Christ is offered 
indiscriminately to all, under these peculiar 
and most expressive titles^ and in all these gra- 
cious offices, proves that the vitiated state of 
our nature is universal, and universally the 
same, and, consequently, not dependant upon 
accidental causes — proves that we are all 
*' horn in sinsj^ born in servitude ; that the 
moral disease under which we all labour is 
hereditary, and, therefore, that we are utterly 
disqualified for self-restoration and self-salva- 
tion. 

Scripture, then, concurs with reason and 
experience in discarding the idea of mere imi- 



72 THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY 

tative depravity, and in maintaining the doc- 
trine of transmitted innate depravity. 

Let it not be supposed that the question 
discussed so much -at length is needless and 
unimportant, and that, instead of disputing as 
to the origin of corruption. Christians should 
merely unite for its eradication. 

The theory reprobated seems to forbid all 
radical work in the matter of moral renova- 
tion. It teaches the parent an utterly falla- 
cious mode of procedure in regard to the 
moral training of his child. Taking it for 
granted that the heart of his child is pure by 
nature, his single aim is to keep it pure : to 
save it from " the evil that is in the world." 
The corrupter is not suffered to come near 
tlie angel object of his affections. The very 
atmosphere is purified around him. And still 
in due season (and early indeed is that season) 
evil displays itself, corruption breaks forth, 
and the amazed guardian asks, " Whence hath 
he these things," seeing that he came not into 
contact with the wicked and the wickedness 
of the world ? I will answer you, O parent ! 
His heart was constitutionally corrupt, and 
you knew it not. It was not good ground by 
nature ; yet you presumed upon the excel- 
lence of its soil, and the value of its sponta- 
neous product. This is the natural result : 
thorns and briers, tares and weeds ; a harvest 
of iniquity here, maturing for the fire of judg- 
ment hereafter. 



OF THE HUMAN HEART. 7S 

And in reference to adults, the same theory 
is dangerous, because it assigns a wrong 
cause of personal corruption, and prescribes 
an utterly ineffectual discipline of amendment. 
It saith. Fear not for your hearts ; they are good 
enough. There is dignity, nobleness, generous 
virtue in nature ; but take care of others, they 
will mislead and destroy you ! The scriptural 
caution would, however, be this (and never 
may my hps utter or my pen commend an- 
other) — take heed of the evil without. " Go not 
into the way of evil men," for their " commu- 
nications may corrupt good morals ;" but 
especially take heed to yourselves — look well 
to the heart. By nature " it is deceitful above 
all things, and desperately wicked :" grace 
must renew it, and its renewal prepare it for 
salvation. 

The difference, then, between the two theo- 
ries is one of life and death. It involves the 
eternal interests of undying spirits. It is con- 
fessed on all sides that the malignant pesti- 
lence of sin abounds, and speeds unnumbered 
souls to the second death. He who contends 
for its invariably foreign origin^ who asserts 
that by its infectious nature it is transmitted 
from realm to realm, from nation to nation, 
from man to man, and that, like the plague 
which desolates the East, it may be barred 
out by closing every door of communication 
with the external world, by excluding the 
atmosphere impregnated with death, surely 
G 



74 THE GENERAL DEPRAVITY, ETC. 

overlooks the primary, proximate, and most 
formidable danger, in his anxiety to provide 
against that which is secondary and more re- 
mote ; v^hile he who acts upon the principle, 
that although direct communication with oth- 
ers in whom it is rife may accelerate its de- 
velopment and increase its malignity — it is 
also self'Originant, a disease which springs up, 
as it were, from the very ground of our evil 
hearts, and congenial with the atmosphere 
which we individually breathe — will surely be 
doubly watchful, " doubly armed." He will 
be on his guard against evil, both from with- 
out and within. The bark that would convey 
the infection from abroad shall find with him 
no harbour, while the causes and the symp- 
toms of internal corruption will all be sought 
out and obviated. Whichever theory be sup- 
posed to be true, or though both be true, still 
he will be safe. His creed secures him. His 
spiritual city will not be made desolate. He 
will be as completely " separate from sinners" 
as though he w^ere himself a saint, yet as 
watchful over self as though he feared to be- 
come " the chief of sinners J^ And thus,* al- 
though depraved in nature, and living in a 
corrupt and corrupting world, by watchful- 
ness, prayer, and Christian circumspection, 
through the grace of God he will be enabled 
to " live godly, righteously, and soberly in this 
present world," " perfecting holiness in the 
fear of God." 



THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 75 



CHAPTER V. 

THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 

** The wickedness of man was great in the earth, and every 
imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continu- 
ally." 

" From the sole of the foot, even unto the head, there is no 
soundness in it." 

"■ For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh) dwelleth no 
good thing." 

*' For the good that I would, I do not." 

Thus far I will trust that the convictions of 
most of my readers have gone with me. Natu- 
rally and very greatly depraved w^e evidently 
are. This the Scripture declares, and expe- 
rience verifies. Had men been content to 
stop here, it had been well. The witness 
found in every breast, and the proofs glaring 
upon every eye, would almost have precluded 
opposition ; leaving few to gainsay, and to 
these few no handle of objection. 

It is the going beyond the warranty of Scrip- 
ture, and the plain facts of the case, that has 
laid open the w^hole doctrine of depravity to 
reproach ; and induced many to deny, in any 
degree, altogether, that which they could not 
admit to an unlimited extent. The unauthor- 
ized assertion of that one specific, settling 
word, total, has probably done as much to 



76 THE DEGKEE OF DEPRAVITY. 

prejudice men against even the sober state- 
ment of their depravity as all the rank oppo- 
sition of skeptic minds or ungodly hearts. 
My objections are to the phraseology used 
rather than to the doctrine really intended. 

The term total leads to misapprehension, 
expressing more than is intended to be ex- 
pressed. 

The term is exclusive, superlative, while 
the fact is held w^ith certain reserves, excep- 
tions, and modifications. To be consistent, 
either the doctrine should be avov^ed v^ithout 
qualification, or, if this may not be, the term 
should be restricted to the measure of the doc- 
trine. Language loses all its precision, and 
ceases to be the just representative of thought, 
if the terms applied indicate either more or 
less than the mind intended. The question of 
consistency must be settled by those who use 
the term : their own explanations and modifi- 
cations, however, relieve me from the neces- 
sity of combating at length the doctrine of to- 
tality in corruption, into the needless and 
fruitless controversy concerning which I have 
no desire to enter. A few of the inconsisten- 
cies which it involves may be mentioned in 
passing. 

1. Total depravity, in strictness of speech, 
would be a perfectly hopeless and irremedi- 
able state. There would be left nothing to 
which a successful and saving appeal could be 
made ; nothing capable of responding to the 



THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 77 

voice of Divine injunction ; nothing of which 
the Spirit of God could take hold. Such, for 
aught that we know to the contrary, may be 
the state of the fallen angels ; and this may 
account for the fact that they are left without 
a remedy : hut such is not our case, 

2. It would equalize all offenders ; since, if 
all were by nature totally depraved, they would 
be placed on one common level. Experience, 
however, estabhshes the fact of degrees in de- 
pravity. 

Farther, It would merge the guilt of actual 
transgression altogether, since no actual sins 
could make men more than totally depraved. 

Once more : The state of total depravity 
would equalize man with the very devils. 
Take away all possible good, and ascribe all 
possible evil, and you have a demon. The 
same process gives you total depravity. 

Such being the inconsistencies involved in 
the idea of total corruption on the part of man, 
it is not surprising that both the term and the 
doctrine are unknown to Scripture. We may 
remark of all the sacred writers (as has been 
well remarked of St. Paul), that they " no- 
where fix the degree of this corruption."* 
They unite to pronounce it alarmingly great, 
but they nowhere assert its totality. The de- 
termination of that point has been, it is con- 
ceived, by merely human authority.f 

* Bishop Sumner. 

t In opposition to this, many seemingly strong declarations of 
Scripture arc often adduced, and among others the following 

G2 



78 THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 

Such are some of the objections which exist 
in the minds of many strong and consistent 
advocates of the doctrine of depravity to the 
use of the epithet total. It either intends not 

one, already presented to the reader at the head of the present 
chapter : " For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh) dwell- 
eth no good thing." — Rom., vii., 18. The exact rendering here 
would be, " in my flesh good dwelleth not ;" and this rendering 
is adopted by M'Knight. But waving this, the whole context 
is opposed to the doctrine of totality. The man is described 
throughout as discerning and approving good. " To will is pres- 
ent with me" — "The good that 1 would" — "The evil that I 
would not." If, as some have supposed, the language is utter- 
ed by the apostle himself, as a renewed man, in behalf of all the 
renewed, it cannot bear at all upon the question ; but if it refers 
to our nature generally, then these expressions are wholly in- 
consistent with the idea of total depravity. They prove that in 
the inner man there is still left a witness for God ; and, as the 
same Presbyterian divine last quoted has shown (M 'Knight, in 
loco), that God meant to convict the wicked, by appealing to the 
reason and conscience within them. He has throughout dis- 
tinguished between " the law of the mind and the law of the mem' 
hers ;" and if in the former there be even the approval and the 
desire after good, it rescues the man from the imputation of 
total corruption. 

Another favourite testimony adduced is found in Gen., vi., 5 : 
'* And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the 
earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was 
only evil continually." This, however, has no bearing upon the 
point. It refers to the actually existing depravity of man, im- 
mediately antecedent to the general Deluge, when " all flesh 
had corrupted its way before God." It describes a state of un- 
usual rifeness in transgression, and that visited by a special 
judgment, and not the invariable state of man by nature. The 
language of Isaiah (chap, i., 5, 6) is often quoted : " The whole 
head is sick, and the whole heart faint. From the sole of the 
foot, even unto the head, there is no soundness in it," &c., &c. 
This, however, is a descrpition of the social wickedness and 
misery of the Jewish nation at that particular time, and not of the 
corruption of our nature in general. It would be easy to show- 
that the other declarations of Scripture usually quoted are 
equally irrelevant ; but these may be assumed as a specimen of 
the class of texts relied on, and their brief examination will con- 
firm us in the belief that Scripture is silent as to totality in d*- 
greCf although it is exoress as to universality in extension. 



THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY, 79 

the doctrine which it seems to assert, or it as- 
serts what is not hterally true, and, therefore, 
indefensible. 

Into the farther discussion of the question it 
is not proposed to enter ; my principal inten- 
tion being to show how needlessly it is agita- 
ted, nnd how very closely those whom it seems 
to divide approximate in sentiment when their 
respective views are clearly understood. The 
following testimonies from two of the ablest 
divines of the Presbyterian Church, whose 
names are extensively known on both sides of 
the Atlantic, may perhaps plead an apology 
with some for not going the whole length of 
their own assertions ; and in presenting them 
to the attention of the reader, I would remark, 
that the moderate and unexceptionable view 
which they present is embraced by many of the 
most enlightened and able minds of all denomi- 
nations usually termed orthodox, and that it 
is, perhaps, the only one which can place the 
truth of our depravity above dispute and 
above reproach, and send it, armed with the 
power of God and speeded by the convictions 
of man, to the inmost recesses of the heart and 
conscience. 

The late Dr. D wight, in his sermon on the 
depravity of man and its degrees, remarks, 1. 
" The human character is not depraved to the 
full extent of the human powers. It has been 
said, neither unfrequently, nor by men void of 
understanding, that man is as depraved a being 



80 THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 

as his faculties will permit him to be. But it 
has been said without consideration and with- 
out truth. Neither the Scriptures nor expe- 
rience warrant the assertion. The ' young 
man' who came to Christ to know ' what good 
thing he should do to have eternal life,' was 
certainly less depraved than his talents would 
have permitted him to be. Like him, we daily 
see many men who neither are, nor profess to 
be, Christians, and who, instead of being wick- 
ed to a degree commensurate to the extent of 
their faculties, go through life in the exercise 
of dispositions so sincere, just, and amiable, and 
in the performance of actions so upright and 
beneficent, as to secure a high degree of re- 
spect and affection from ourselves, and from all 
others with whom they are connected. Those 
who make the assertion against which I am 
contending, will find themselves, if they will 
examine, rarely believing that their wives and 
children, though not Christians, ^xe fiends. 

2. " There are certain characteristics of hu- 
man nature which, considered by themselves, 
are innocent. 

3. '' Some of the natural characteristics are 
amiable. Such are natural affection, the sim- 
pUcity and sweetness of disposition m children, 
often found also in persons of adult years: 
compassion, generosity, modesty, and what is 
sometimes called natural conscientiousness, 
that is, a fixed and strong sense of doing that 
which is right. These characteristics appear 



THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 81 

to have adorned the young man w^hom I have 
already mentioned. We know that they are 
amiable, because we are informed that " Jesus, 
beholding him, loved him." 

In exact accordance with these observations, 
the celebrated Chalmers thus writes.: " Now 
there is a way of maintaining the utter depravi- 
ty of our nature, and of doing it in such a style 
of sweeping and vehement asseveration, as to 
render it not merely obnoxious to the taste, but 
obnoxious to the understanding. On this sub- 
ject there is often a roundness and a temerity 
of announcement, which any intelligent man, 
looking at the phenomena of human character 
with his ow^n eyes, cannot go along with ; and 
thus it is that there are injudicious defenders 
of orthodoxy, who have mustered against it not 
merely a positive dislike, but a positive strength 
of observation and argument." Again : " Let 
the nature of man be a ruin, as it certainly is. 
It is obvious to the most common discernment 
that it does not offer one unvaried and unalle- 
viated mass of deformity. There are certain 
phases and certain exhibitions of this nature 
which are more lovely than others — certain 
• traits of character not due to the operation of 
Christianity at all, and yet calling forth our ad- 
miration and tenderness — certain varieties of 
moral complexion far more fair and far more 
engaging than certain other varieties ; and to 
prove that the Gospel may have had no share 
in the formation of them, they, in fact, stood 



82 THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 

out to the notice and respect of the world be- 
fore the Gospel was even heard of^ Again: 
" The way, then, to assert the depravity of man, 
is to fasten on the radical element of depravity, 
and to show how deeply it is incorporated with 
his moral constitution. It is not by the utter- 
ance of rash and sweeping totality, to refuse 
him the possession of what is kind in sympathy, 
or of what is dignified in principle ; for this 
were in the face of all observation. It is to 
charge him direct with utter disloyalty to God 
— it is to convict him of treason against the Maj- 
esty of heaven." 

Not for a moment can it be supposed that 
these truly pious and scriptural writers were 
desirous of explaining away the doctrine of de- 
pravity, or of weakening the practical sense of 
its malignity ; but they doubtless felt that it was 
" better to strike the mark than to go beyond 
it."* They wished so to speak as to have a re- 
sponsive echo from the conscience of every in- 
dividual man, and they therefore used "the 
words of truth and soberness." 

Their presentation of this humbling doctrine 
harmonizes with that given by the distinguished 
transatlantic prelate just quoted, and with the 
following expressions of our own prelates, of 
whom one seems to speak from the grave, " In 
his general character, man must be born again, 
must undergo a spiritual change, as ^. fallen and 
corrupt creature. Not that all his powers and 
* Bishop Sumner. 



TUE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 83 

propensities are totally depraved, for, on the con- 
trary, all his powers and propensities, in their 
original destination and nature, are wise and 
good. The misdirection of them, and the ex- 
cessive indulgence of them, in consequence of 
the fall, constitute man's depravity.""* 

" When we say that *man is very far gone 
from original righteousness,' w^e neither say nor 
mean that any man on earth is as depraved and 
wicked as he possibly may be, or, in other 
words, that a man cannot live worse than he 
does hve. And when we say that *the Scrip- 
tures have concluded all men under sin,' or that 
* there is none that doeth good,' it is not assert- 
ed, nor should it be understood, that all men 
are equally vicious."f 

While able minds of different communions 
thus harmoniously present the same guarded, 
sober, rational, scriptural view of our depravi- 
ty, it would be well to see whether " the mid- 
dle wall of partition" which has been needless- 
ly raised between those who might and should 
have occupied common ground on the subject, 
may not be " broken down ;" and whether those 
" very friends," of the same doctrine, who have 
been separated by " curious questions," and 
mere quibblings, as to a point not definitely set- 
tled of God, may not be brought to identity of 
sentiment, or, at the least, to a unity of feeling 
and the bond of peace, by a clearer apprehen- 

* Bishop Hobart's Posthumous Works, vol. ii., p. 63. 
t Bishop Griswold's Sermons, ser. i.,p. 14, 15. 



84 THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 

sion and more charitable construction of the 
sentiments mutually entertained. 

The learned prelate already quoted has re- 
marked, that " there would not probably be any 
real disagreement between those who yield to 
scriptural authority, if they would first examine 
and define the meaning they affix to the terms 
they employ."*' Of this I am fully persuaded. 
Conversation with many of the most strenuous 
advocates of total depravity {in name at least) 
has convinced me that they make those limita- 
tions and exceptions which, in our esteem, ren- 
der the word total inadmissible; while they, on 
the other hand, have wondered that, with the 
extent and depth of the views entertained, there 
should on our part be any scruple to use the 
term. Here the difference would seem, accord- 
ing to the Bishop of Chester's view, to be al- 
most a logomachy, or mere dispute of words. 
On the one side, there is admitted that native 
amiability, which is considered, on the other, as 
incompatible with the idea of totality ; while by 
these, again, it is still conceded that this native 
amiability is but unsanctified good. 

Both agree that by nature we are " very far 
gone from original righteousness,"-]- and in a 
state of such moral inability " that we cannot 
turn and prepare ourselves, by our own natural 
strength and good works, to faith and calling 
upon God ; so that we have no power to do 
good works, pleasant and acceptable unto God, 

*■ Bishop Sumner, Apostolic Preaching. t Article 9. 



THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 85 

without the grace of God by Christ preventing 
(going before) us, that we may have a good 
will, and working with us when we have a good 
will."*' Here, then, there is broad and common 
ground, where they may meet under the one 
ample banner, whose inscription is, Corrup- 
tion BY NATURE AND REDEMPTION THROUGH 

GRACE. Nor is it meet and right that they 
should go, on opposite sides, to the farthest 
limits of this scriptural ground, and there, ca- 
ring nothing for the common banner, set up 
their little private standards, bearing the rival 
words total and partial, as provocatives to 
mutual jealousy and distrust, or challenges to 
angry controversy. Surely this ought not so 
to be. If I hold the doctrine as fully and as 
deeply as my brother Christian, with no other 
I. mutations than he himself admits, then let him 
not impeach my orthodoxy because I use not 
the dehnite epithet total, with which, in my es- 
teem, these hmitations are inconsistent. I hold 
the fact, the doctrine of depravity. Let that 
suffice him. 

On the other hand, while I object to this ep- 
ithet ; while I consider its use as clogged with 
difficulties, as calculated to divide friends, and 
to present a vulnerable point to enemies ; while 
I could wish that it had never found a place in 
the language of systematic theology, or that 
it might even now be discarded by common 
agreement, still, if this may not be, and if my 

* Article 10. 

H 



86 THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 

fellow-Christians cling to it with unyielding te- 
nacity, why, let me even grant to them the term^ 
provided that it be so modified and explained 
as that all that is obnoxious in its import, or 
that might be injurious in inference, is avoided 
or disavowed. And, indeed, a very slight 
knowledge of the constitution of the human 
mind may convince us that we ask no light or 
trivial thing when we ask men to give up tech- 
nical words or phrases, which have, by long use, 
acquired sacredness in their esteem, and which 
to them are the very tests and symbols of or- 
thodoxy. The abandonment of the term might 
seem, or might ultimately prove to them, the 
dereliction of the doctrine ; for so close is the 
association between words and the ideas or 
things they represent, that there might be room 
to fear lest the injudicious term and the whole- 
some truth should be given up together ; or, at 
the least, it might lead to an unkind suspicion 
of waning orthodoxy among their fellows. 
With those, then, who hold substantially the 
scriptural truth, in a phraseology which needs 
and receives accompanying explanation, I am 
not disposed very earnestly to contend, nor 
should they be either indignant or suspicious if 
we decline to pronounce their shibboleth, even 
though virtually engaged in the same hallow- 
ed cause. The truth is in danger from neither, 
nor is either in danger from the other. But 
the common danger, the danger to vital and ef- 
ficient Christianity, is froni a different quarter ; 



THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 87 

from the proud asserters of the dignity of hu- 
man nature — the boastful advocates of its in- 
corruptness and moral sufficiency. These are 
they who harp upon a string with which the 
pride and deceitfulness of the natural heart will 
always vibrate in unison ; who sing a siren 
song which it w^ill ever be soothing and de- 
lightful to hear. All hope of efficiency to the 
preaching of the " truth as it is in Jesus," and 
of safety to the souls of men, requires that the 
fact of entailed, universal, and deep corruption 
should stand out prominently to the notice of 
every eye, and fall in solemn, startling, oft-re- 
peated accents upon every ear. Preach it 
wath all godly fidelity, with all solemn and af- 
fectionate earnestness, with unshrinking bold- 
ness and untiring perseverance, ye servants of 
the living God, ye " ambassadors for Christ," ye 
messengers of the Churches, ye " watchers for 
souls !" It is the secret of all your success, and 
has an inseparable connexion with the responsi- 
bilities and rewards of your heaven-appointed 
office. Dissipate, if possible, that day-dream of 
folly, that night-vision of delusion, the chimera 
of native birthright innocence, that men may 
come down to the waking, sober, humbling 
views of Gospel truth. "Sweep away the ref- 
uge of lies," that they may " flee for refuge to the 
hope set before them in the Gospel," " the house 
of defence which God hath set very high." 
Show to them that human worthiness is but a 
foundation of sand, that they may build upon 



88 THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 

Christ, " the rock of ages^ Make manifest to 
them their disease, that they mav in time re- 
pair to the Great Physician. Let them be con- 
strained to see and to feel the corruption that 
reigns by nature, that they may seek and ob- 
tain the sanctification that is of grace ! 

By no other mode can we drive the skeptic 
from his doubts, and the amiable moralist from 
his false dependances, and the worldling from 
his idols of earth and his indifference to God, 
and the Pelagian from his self-sufficiency, and 
the abandoned sinner from his sins, and bring 
them all unto Christ, with sorrow in their hearts, 
tears in their eyes, and the cry upon their lips, 
" Lord, save us, or we perish^ 

Parents, guardians ! instil this doctrine of 
innate depravity into the tender minds of your 
youthful charge. Let it be among "the ele- 
ments, the first principles of the doctrines of 
Christ," which they imbibe. Show to them the 
proofs of it in their first risings of wrath and 
passion, in their daily little offences against each 
other, against you, against their Father in heav- 
en, in the ease with which they learn " to do ill," 
and the difficulty with which they " learn to do 
well." Avoid the too common phraseology 
which addresses them as though they were 
good, or had the elements and means of good in 
their own constitution and in their own power. 
Persuade them not to childish excellence by 
flattering appeals to the pride or van.ity of their 
little hearts. All these things lead them to false 
conclusions and dangerous results, and must, 



THE DEGREE OF DEPRAVITY. 89 

with much pains be unlearned (if, haply, they 
can be unlearned) in after years. Rather en- 
deavour to convince them that they also were 
" born in sins," and are sinners by practice, and, 
consequently, need both a Saviour and a Sanc- 
tifier. Stir them up to gratitude for having 
been " washed in the laver of regeneration," 
and kindle within them, if possible, an anxiety 
for that " baptism of the Holy Ghost," which 
will make them clean within, " clean every whitJ^ 
So shall you enshrine wholesome truth in the 
sanctuary of their hearts, give it a practical 
bearing upon the development of childish char- 
acter, the formation of youthful habit, and 
upon the best interests of " the life that now is," 
and of " that which is to come." 

Yes, my readers, to all, we say, receive, pro- 
fess, proclaim, and improve the doctrine of the 
natural depravity of the heart. But hold it in 
" truth and soberness." Let us take care to 
have facts and experience with us rather than 
against us, and to adventure no farther in as- 
sertion than the warranty of Scripture will bear 
us out. "'The wisdom of God is wiser than 
men;" it were vain, then, to endeavour to be 
^'wise above what is written^ Human deprav- 
ity, declared of God, exhibited and witnessed 
of man, is a fact. The degree of it is a ques- 
tion. To debate the question were profitless ; 
to decide it, difficult, if not impossible. To 
believe and act upon the fact is important to 
our present and our eternal destiny, 
H2 



90 THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 

" For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness.'* 
" Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil 
heart of unbelief." 

" So we see that they could not enter in, because of unbe- 
lief." 

There is nothing, perhaps, from which the 
natural mind more revolts, or against which 
the natm'al heart more commonly rebels, than 
the appointment of faith as the great essen- 
tial TO salvation. " It is a hard saying, 
who can bear it ?" is the universal cry. That 
for the simple fact of unbelief men should be 
excluded from the kingdom of heaven, is a 
regulation viewed at least with a suspicious 
and evil eye, if not actually regarded as an 
arbitrary act of legislation — a virtual assump- 
tion on the part of the Creator, and a direct 
infringement upon the Hberty of the intelligent 
creature. Men delight to view opinion, like 
property, as absolutely and entirely their own, 
and at their own disposal ; to be acquired and 
changed when and as they list ; as a thing 
with which not man alone, but even God, has 
no right to interfere. Or else, if it be appre- 
hended that this claim will not stand the test, 



THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 91 

they change their ground, and contend that 
opmion or faith is not under their own con- 
trol ; that it is a thing of circumstances — of 
contingencies — that its formation and peculiar 
character depend on the original constitution 
of then' minds — upon the bias of education — 
upon the nature of maturer and controlling 
associations — upon the manner in which even 
truth is presented to them ; and that, from the 
diversity of these influencing and predispo- 
sing causes, it is impossible that any moral 
proposition, however certainly and universally 
true, should receive universal assent, and be 
alike acknowledged by minds differently con- 
stituted and disciplined ; and, consequently, 
that unbeliefs although it may be their misfor- 
tune, can never be their guilt. Miserable 
sophistry ! It will require but a moment to 
expose its fallacy ; and whether men " charge 
God foolishly" as to the hardness of his requi- 
sitions, or whether they would screen them- 
selves under the plea of inability, they are 
alike convicted at the bar of reason and of 
truth. What ! had not God the right to be 
the teacher of his people on those subjects 
which of themselves they cannot know, and 
to prescribe the terms on which he will re- 
ceve them to his favour ? and in the appoint- 
ment of faith as necessary to salvation, has he 
done anything more than to exercise this 
right ? Surely no intelligent man, in the ordi- 
nary use of his faculties, could think for a mo- 



92 THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 

ment either of denying the r*ght, or of limit- 
ing its exercise ; and the objection must there- 
fore result from ignorance or misapprehension 
as to our original state. They who are so 
jealous of God's dictation and of their own 
liberty, must forget that the two great attri- 
butes of our natural condition were ignorance 

and CONDEMNATION. 

1. Our ignorance becomes God's vindica- 
tion from the charge of arbitrary enactment. 

He only was able to reveal to us the things 
of heaven — the things concerning his own in- 
finite essence and perfections — the things 
which would "make for our everlasting 
peace." These things, by nature, we know 
not, and we could not know. Had they been 
discoverable by us, Revelation would have 
been superfluous, and faith would have been 
precluded. They would have been matters 
of investigation and of positive knowledge, 
but not of faith. That same state of man 
which required a revelation, and the same 
mercy of God by which it was imparted, left 
with God the right of demanding its accept- 
ance, or else of affixing penalties to the act of 
rejection, and placed us under a moral obli- 
gation to its accveptance, or else a moral neces- 
sity to suffer those penalties. 

2. We were in a state of sin and condem- 
nation. 

The sentence was upon us, and its reversal 
rested with him who had pronounced it, not 



THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 93 

with us. If saved at all, it could only be 
through the free grace and mercy of God. If 
that grace and mercy be dispensed, it must be 
on hiS own terms. With him assuredly it 
rested to devise and appoint the scheme or 
mode, and the conditions of salvation. He has 
done so, and made them known to us in the 
Gospel. To refuse assent to his testimony 
because the propositions revealed do not alto- 
gether square with our ideas or expectations, 
is to reject the whole system which they form 
— God's scheme for our salvation ; and, as we 
have no right to appoint terms for ourselves, 
neither can we bind God to their acceptance ; 
we lose the possibility of salvation. Our ex- 
clusion from heaven follows as a just and ne- 
cessary sequence from our presumption and 
obstinacy. 

And then as to the plea of inability to be- 
lieve : if not in every case falsely pretended, 
yet at the best it is but imaginary. What is 
the true state of the case ? In a department 
of knowledge which is the acknowledged 
province of Revelation, men subvert the legit- 
imate empire of revealed truth, push forth 
their own reason, upon a course of investiga- 
tion to which it is incompetent, give the reins 
to imagination, and bid it accompany and im- 
bolden reason in its flight through vast immen- 
sity — speculate boldly of earth, and hell, and 
heaven — rush to conclusions the very oppo- 
site from those which God has established, 



94 THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 

and rest in them, and act upon them ; and 
then, although the whole matter be of their 
own wilfulness, they still say that the fault 
was not theirs ; that their unbehef is sponta- 
neous, irresistible, and without sin ! Well 
may we fear " that such an excuse will not 
be so easily accepted and allowed before 
God," for it is not founded in truth. It is not 
the fact that such men strive to believe and 
cannot. On the contrary, it may be fearlessly 
asserted, that they strive hard to disbelieve. 
Skepticism is their aim ; and when they be- 
come accomplished professors of its cheerless 
theory of doubt and denial, so that they can 
scoff at all that is sacred here, and have ceas- 
ed to hope for aught that may be hereafter, 
" verily they have their reward^ 

Is exception still taken at God's declared 
indignation against unbelief? Let this unbe- 
lief be stripped, then, of all its disguises, and 
appear in its true character and its full de- 
formity. To what does it amount but to an 
impeachment of the Divine veracity ? Saith 
St. John, " He that believeth not God hath 
MADE HIM A LIAR, bccausc hc bclieveth not the 
record that God gave of his Son." This is 
strong language, but not too strong for the 
truth. Its author was of too enlarged a char- 
ity, of too meek, loving, and cathohc a spirit, 
to have slandered even an enemy. He would 
rather have whispered an excuse or breathed 
a prayer, than have pronounced a censure or 



THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 95 

proclaimed a judgment. The expression, then, 
has double weight, because coming from his 
pen. He declares the simple truth. Disguise 
it as we may, under the smooth and captiva- 
ting terms of " harmless speculation," " think- 
ing for self," " following reason," " following 
out principles," " going steadily to conclusions," 
" exercisino^ mind," " exercisino^ natural and 
moral liberty," " daring to be free," and un- 
numbered others equally euphonious, equally 
fashionable, and equally false — still this is un- 
belief, when brought out from the covert of 
deceptive appellation, and called by its just 
name, and explained according to its real im- 
port. It is neither more nor less than giving 
the lie to God, 

It may be well for those whom this strong 
language, and this, to them, new view of the 
subject, may have startled, to follow up the 
train of thought which the inspired St. John 
has opened, and to dwell for a little time upon 
his original presentation. 

To refuse assent even to human testimony, 
when it is clear and credible, is an offence 
against reason and common sense ; and if this 
refusal were common, the very foundations of 
opinion would be subverted, and the boiKis of 
social confidence would be loosened. Hence, 
therefore, we all do receive, under ordinary 
circumstances, the direct testimony of those 
whom we imagine to he honest men. Now 
saith our apostle, " If we receive the witness of 



96 THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 

men, the witness of God is greater." The in- 
ference from the comparison is this, that the re- 
jection of his witness is as much more unrea- 
sonable and sinful than the rejection of credi- 
ble human testimony, as " the heavens are high- 
er than the earth, or his ways than our ways." 

Condemn man as justly or as loudly as you 
will for not believing his fellow-men, and he 
still has this extenuation, that they are his fel- 
low-men — "men of like passons" with others 
and with himself; that their senses may deceive 
them, or their prejudices warp them ; that their 
motives may be unsound, and their aim unhal- 
lowed. But such extenuation finds no place 
when God is the witness and man the objv ctor. 
From his very nature, it follows that the witness 
cannot err, and will not deceive. And the ob- 
jector has not even the shadow of justification 
for his cavillings. He knows nothing, end 
therefore should say nothing. On the one s de, 
there is infinite knowledge, infinite wisdom, in- 
finite power, and mfinite hoLness. On the oth- 
er, there is the profundity of ignorance, the li- 
ability to err, the weakness of dependance, and 
the pollution of sin. I leave it to yoa, my read- 
ers, to perceive and feel how the s.n deepens in 
aggravation, when it is man, ignorant, ei ring, 
dependant, sinful man, who would " make God a 
liar ;" the all-wise, infallible, self-existent, holy, 
omnipotent God ! 

Even we, frail and fallible though we are, 
scorn to have our word impugned, as though 



THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 97 

that word were essential truth. In the world- 
ling's esteem, the questioning of his veracity is 
" unpardonable sin," which can scarcely be 
washed out, even in the crimson stream of 
blood. And yet we deny what God has assert- 
ed, and put our miserable sophistries and piti- 
ful objections in the scale against his revela- 
tions ; yea, refuse to believe him on his word 
and on his oath^^ and expect that he will abide 
the blasphemous insult, and even admit the of- 
fender to his equal heaven ! Surely this is pre- 
sumption indeed ! 

It is not, however, unbelief in the abstract, 
but unbelief in connexion with its consequences, 
that offends and calls for punishment. 

These consequences naturally, if not neces- 
sarily, lead to rejection. They that were trav- 
elhng towards the earthly Canaan " could not 
enter in because of unbelief, ^^ Why ? Because 
that unbelief made them doubt God's own tes- 
timony to the value of that "good land" of 
promise — distrust his promised aid in its con- 
quest and acquisition — magnify all the difficul- 
ties and obstacles in the way, while it caused 
their own courage to wane away, and their 
hearts to melt within them because of fear, 
and a base and creeping servility of spirit to 
come over them ; so that they thought Egypt 
and its " iron bondage," the wilderness, with its 
privations, its perils, and its terrors, better than 
God's own land, because that land could only 

* See Hebrews, verse 13-16. 



98 THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 

be purchased by courage and exertion. And 
precisely such is the influence of unbelief upon 
men as travellers in the vast and dreary wil- 
derness of earth, to a land of celestial rest. 
They do not believe w^hat God has told them of 
"the rest which remaineth to his people." 
How, then, should they either desire or seek it ? 
All holy and inspiriting motive, all disposition 
and ability for saving effort, is taken away." 
Their increduhty cramps their spiritual ener- 
gies, represses all the aspirings after earthly 
excellence or future immortality, which ever 
and anon begin to arise within them ; and it 
makes them low and grovelling; willing to 
creep along upon the polluted surface of this 
earth, and to batten upon the garbage of its 
food, and to drivel along until their death-doom 
arrives, and then to perish and be forgotten like 
the beasts of the field, and to mingle their dust 
with the dust to which their very souls have 
cleaved ! Surely it must be that, because of 
unbelief, men cannot enter into the heavenly 

Canaan. . 

And in this exclusion there is nothing arbi- 
trary. It is the necessary result of the princi- 
ple itself. " The door," indeed, " is shut," but it 
is unbelief which shuts it. He who does not 
believe in a God will not serve God here, and 
cannot, therefore, consistently be supposed to 
go unto God hereafter. He who believes not 
in a Saviour cuts himself off from aU the soul- 
constraining motives of a Saviour's Gospel. 



THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 99 

He who has no settled conviction of the agen- 
cy of a sanctifying Spirit will probably " do 
despite to that Spirit," if he does not rush into 
the horrible impiety, the " unpardonable sin,*^ 
of " blaspheming against the Holy Ghost." 

The wonder, then, is not that the unbeliev- 
ing are shut out from heaven, but the wonder 
would be if they were admitted there. Strange 
indeed would be the translation, irreconcila- 
ble alike with the reputed character of God, 
and the expectations as well as capabilities of 
man, if, from utter godlessness, both in creed 
and practice, they should pass to that heaven 
which is filled with the glory of the triune Je- 
hovah, where his will is supreme, and where 
the redeemed from earth, and the spirits of 
heaven, find their bliss in his service ! 

When unbelief becomes the distinguishing 
characteristic, the dominant sin of the soul, the 
apostle, with much propriety, terms it the evil 
heart of unbelief. Intellectual skepticism is suf- 
ficiently ruinous. It unsettles principles, it 
takes away motive, and leaves the poor doubt- 
er the sport of every wind of thought or pas- 
sion, at the mercy of all temptations, the crea- 
ture of ever-varying external circumstances 
or inward impulses. But spiritual unbelief, 
the unbelief of the heart, is more guilty and 
more fatal ; its sin is against light and against 
knowledge. The understanding is convinced, 
or, at the least, its decisions are not against the 
truth ; but the unbelieving heart forms to itself 



100 THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 

a new decision ; pushes away the truth because 
it is hateful ; embraces error because it is pleas- 
ing ; neglects the duties which " the finger 
of God" has written upon its own fleshly tablets, 
rushes into sin because it loves sin, and acts as 
though it had said, in its foolishness, " There is 
no God." 

The distinction to which allusion has just 
been made between intellectual skepticism and 
the unbelief of the heart is exceedingly impor- 
tant, although too generally forgotten or un- 
known. Popularly, it is in every case traced 
to the head. It is imagined that there is some 
natural obtuseness of mind, some strange ob- 
liquity in its views, resulthig from its original 
conformation, or the warping influence to which 
it has been subjected in the process of train- 
ing ; and the whole of the difficulty and sin is, 
therefore, resolved into an error of opinion. 
The skeptic comforts himself with the thought 
that, as he cannot force himself to think thus or 
thus, he is, consequently, altogether irresponsi- 
ble for sentiment. The world charitably pities 
rather than blames his error, and as charitably 
hopes that it will be forgiven. Christian friends, 
in their zeal to convert him to better views, di- 
rect all their eflforts to the head, and hope, by 
the force of reasoning, to convince his under- 
standing ; when, alas ! the pride of understand- 
ing is at the root of his skepticism ; and when, 
probably, the most ingenious reasonings, the 
most complete demonstrations of the truth, 



THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 101 

would only rouse that unholy pride to a more 
determined adherence to the doubting or infi- 
del creed once professed. 

The seat of the malady being thus mistaken, 
the cure fails as a matter of course. Year 
after year rolls by, leaving friends to wonder 
and to weep that he should be so obstinate ; 
infidel associates, to laud and cherish him as a 
faithful brother, conviction proof; and himself, 
to exult in the boast that no reasons strong 
enough for his conviction have been offered to 
his acceptance. But w^hat is the fact ? What 
saith the Scripture ? That there is in him 
" an evil heart of unbelief," and that " with 
the heart he must beUeve unto righteousness." 
To be successful, anxious friendship and Chris- 
tian solicitude must change their mode of pro- 
cedure. The heart must be addressed, moved, 
melted. If this once become right, the mind 
will find acquiescence most easy. Take away 
" the vail upon the heart," and " the scales" 
will soon " fall from the eyes." The mists of 
ignorance and error w411 be dissipated. He 
will see at first, perhaps obscurely, " men as 
trees walking ;" at last, distinctly, all things as 
they are, even " the wonderful things of God's 
law." The doubter, the unbeliever that was 
convinced, will cry out, " My Lord and mv 
God !" " In Christ's light he will see light." 
Such is the sure teaching of experience, and 
it coincides exactly with the assurance of Him 
who is '• THE TRUTH." " If a man will do my 
12 



102 THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 

words, he shall know of the doctrine whether 
it be of God." 

I would be far from asserting that there is 
no such thing as mental skepticism distinct 
from the depraved and vitiated state of the 
unbelieving heart, or that the doubts of the 
mind are not to be resolved. There are some 
of a philosophical, or, rather, speculative turn 
of mind, who are ingenious in finding or fan- 
cying to themselves difficulties and objections; 
or who are forcibly struck by the objections 
which cunning infideUty is ever ready to 
spread at length before the curious eye, or to 
group together in close and formidable array. 
To such I say, " Give a reason for" the faith 
and the " hope that are in us." It is right that 
their difficulties, when stated, should be heard 
with patience, treated with deference, met 
with candour, and answered with fulness. 
Give them evidence, full and complete evi- 
dence, for this they have a right to demand, 
and with less than this they will not be satis- 
fied. I consider not merely the conviction, 
but the illumination of the understanding, as 
important, in order to the full and kindly ac- 
tion of the heart in matters of faith. The pro- 
fession of belief, while many tantalizing doubts 
brooded over the mind, would be sheer hypoc- 
risy ; and faith without investigation, or in 
connexion with gross ignorance of the grounds 
of it, would be mere vulgar credulity. Still, 
in the vast majority of cases, it is confidently 



THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 103 

believed that the alleged contradiction and 
mental doubts on which so much stress is laid!, 
are only the ostensible and avowed, not the reoi 
grounds of dissent from Christian truth ; that 
they are the smallest items in the account, 
very " drops in the bucket ;" and that, though 
these should be met and removed a thousand 
times, yet would not conviction, or the acknowl- 
edgment of conviction, ensue, until the heart 
was turned to the love and search of the truth. 
As to any influence in making good Chris- 
tians of sin-loving men, who patronise latitu- 
dinarianism in creed, because it opens to them 
a perfect latitudinarianism in morals, not all 
the evidences in the world would do this. 
There is truth and force in what an eminent 
transatlantic writer* has said on this subject:: 
" I more than fear the prevailing taste for 
books of natural theology, physico-theology, 
demonstrations of God from nature, evidences 
of Christianity, &c. Evidences of Christian- 
ity ! I am weary of the word. Make a man 
feel his want of it ; rouse him, if you can, to 
the self-knowledge of his need of it, and you 
may safely trust to its own evidencesJ^ Evi- 
dences and proofs have their value when 
properly used by the proper subjects, but 
there are few indeed of the flippant objectors 
of this world who need them. Facts attest 
this. In their conviction and conversion, 

* Coleridge's Aids to Reflection, p. 245, Burlington edit. 



104 THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF, 

whensoever and how^soever these occur, it is 
found universally that the heart, with its affec- 
tions, is the medium of influence. It is not a 
dry argument addressed to the mind, but the 
living, breathing, constraining force of truth 
upon the soul, that brings them into " the obe- 
dience of Christ." In the whole process of 
their change, their former and oft-vaunted ob- 
jections have not only been left unresolved, 
but perhaps have neither been mentioned to 
Others, nor occurred to themselves. Without 
human effort, " like the morning cloud or the 
early dew," they have passed away, under 
the warmth of the true light that hath shined 
around and within them. Without one spec- 
Illative disputation, the providence or the 
grace of God have done the work. The bed 
of sickness, the stroke of adversity, the an- 
guish of bereavement, the " still, small voice 
of conscience," or of the Spirit of God, the 
•^'word in season," making its way direct to 
the heart : one, or all of these, have put to 
flight forever their crude conceits and puny 
sophistries. Struck, as it were, to the earth 
by the force of moral conviction, you hear no 
more of defective evidence. There is an end 
at once to sly insinuation or open blasphemy 
against the truth, to mahce and unkindness 
** breathed forth" against its disciples. They 
ask not for arguments and syllogisms, for they 
have demonstration, the demonsti^ation of feel" 
ing — God's own witness within them. Their 



THE EVIL HEART OP UNBELIEF. 105 

cry is not, How shall we believe ? but " Lord, 
what wilt thou have us to do ?" The " evil 
heart of unbelief" having at length been 
changed, the mind also is at rest, and all is 
well with them. 

The insidiousness of this evil unbelief in thB 
heart must not be passed unnoticed. It is often 
latent where it is httle suspected. The apos- 
tle, therefore, gives the appropriate caution, 
" Take heed lest there be in any of you an evil 
heart of unbelief." It might be deemed unkind 
and ungenerous to express the fear that Chris- 
tians were not Christians, that believers by 
profession were unbelievers in point of fact^ 
Yet precisely to that amounts the apostle's lan- 
guage, and such is the unwilling judgment 
which in many cases we are constrained to 
form. There are many things connected with 
religion most dangerously taken for granted^ 
none more commonly than the existence and 
the proper character of faith. The heart, " de- 
ceitful above all things," easily persuades itsell 
that it receives and acknowledges the wriitten 
law of Christ, and never stops to inquire wheth- 
er its emotions and promptings are not in op- 
position to the letter as well as the spirit of 
that law. Among thousands who raise not an 
objection nor breathe a whisper against the 
Gospel, some having assumed its truth without 
examination, and others having assented to it 
after laborious disquisition, we still discover 
the evidences of unbelief in the disposition or 



106 THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 

desire to depart from the living God, in an un- 
willingness to acknowledge and respect his 
authority, in the distrust of his providence, in a 
murmuring against his dispensations, which 
could not exist if the heart so believed as to 
feel. It is a sad thing, and yet as common as 
it is sad, to have the understanding specula- 
tively satisfied w'th proofs, while the heart has 
no share in any one fact that is proved, while 
it burns with no spiritual love, receives no Sav- 
iour, welcomes no Sanctifier, looks for no fu- 
turity, anticipates no heaven, and dreads no 
hell ; yea, is as cold and dead as though these 
were but names and fables ! How many, then, 
give evidence of this heart of unbelief, whose 
creed is the creed of the Church of God, the 
very " faith once delivered to the saints !" Let 
all who have a serious concern for their soul's 
salvation look well to the matter, and " exam- 
ine themselves whether they be in the faith." 

To a certain extent, " this unruly evil, full of 
deadly poison," is represented as under the con- 
trol of man. We are to " take heed that it be 
not in us." There is a personal care to be ex- 
ercised by each individual over his own souL 
To God, indeed, it appertains to give and to pre- 
serve the spirit of faith. But his agency is ex- 
erted through our instrumentality. His never- 
idosing eye watches with those who watch 
for themselves. His effectual aid strives with 
those who are working out their own salvation. 
We can conceive, on the part of the wicked^ 



THE EVIL HEART OF UNBELIEF. 107 

of a course of thought and action which shall 
plunge them into the lowest depths of error and 
corruption, where they will be shut out from 
every ray of hght and truth, and whence it 
shall be morally impossible for them to rise 
again. And we may, on the other hand, ima- 
gine to ourselves a holy prudence, a determi- 
nate purpose in the righteous, which will nerve 
to that powerful grasp of faith that will never. 
relax its hold upon hfe. 

To this ripeness of the faith, however, the 
careless and the unguarded can never come. 
It is the heritage of those only who have made 
" a covenant with their eyes," and " set a watch 
before the door of their lips." Unbelief is se- 
cretly introduced, but it is rapidly developed 
and matured. " While men sleep," " the ene- 
my" soweth it. Like Jonah's gourd, it " Com- 
eth up in a night ;" but, alas ! not like it, to with- 
er in the morning sun. In reference to it, well, 
then, may we hear and apply the warning of 
our Lord, " What I say unto you, I say unto all. 
Watch:' 

Would to God that, before taking leave of 
this subject, I could awaken the reader to a just 
estimate of the guilt and danger of this all-per- 
vading principle — this " sin which doth so easi- 
ly beset us." It is the worm that lieth at the 
root of ail excellence ; it is the canker that de- 
stroys all that is fair and lovely in hope. The 
first sin that stained and cursed the earth came 
through unbelief. It was thought that " God 



108 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

had said, but would not do it ; that he had 
spoken, but would not make it good. ' And it 
IS not extravagant to suppose that it will be the 
last sin which will insult the Majesty of heav- 
en, and be charged in the long catalogue of hu- 
man crime. My reader ! in the day when 
•*the books shall be op^jied," may it not be 
found charged against us, for he against whom 
it is written " shall not see life, but the wrath 
of God abideth on him" forever. 



CHAPTER VIL 

THE DIVIDED HEART. 

♦* Their heart is divided ; now shall they be found faulty.'^ 
** Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart." 
" My son, give me thine heart." 

•* He that loveth father or mother more than me is not wor* 
thy of me." 

HuJVTAN language, in its general structure, 
is highly figurative, and some of its boldest 
figures occur in the use of epithets. These, 
from their secondary and merely adjunctive 
character, avoid all suspicion of figure ; and 
yet they involve some of the most spirited and 
most striking tropes to be found in the whole 
Compass of language. In regard to mind and 
spirit, to mental and moral aflTections, the found- 
ation of them all will be found in the ascrip- 



THE DIVIDED HEART. lOff 

tion to these of attributes belonging only to 
matter. Thus the epithets applied to the spir- 
itual heart all refer primarily to the natural or 
fleshly heart, and wonderfully does the mate- 
rial here illustrate the immaterial part. A 
DIVIDED HEART is no uncommon expression. 
Its ordinary import is as well understood as 
its use is familiar. Yet few analyze the ex- 
pression, or consider its strength. Let us, 
then, trace it to its origin. Let us apply it, in 
the strictness of the letter, to the natural heart. 
Imagine that heart to be divided^ severed, or 
rent in twain ! What would either part be 
worth in the physical economy ? Would it 
carry on the process of circulation ? Could it 
even preserve the animal vitality ? Would it 
be at all better to the man than if he had no 
heart ? The answer to these questions is ob- 
vious ; and the inference comes with force to 
the mind, of the utter worthlessness of a di- 
vided spiritual heart in the spiritual economy 
— of half a heart presented unto God ; and we 
are, therefore, ready to admit that, when the 
heart is thus divided, men must be " found 
faulty." We see the reasonableness of the 
injunction, " My son, give me thy hearf — thy 
whole heart ; and we are at no loss to discover 
why it should be the great commandment of 
the law, that we should " love the Lord our 
God with all our mind, and all our strength^ 
and all our soul^ 
The writer was in momentary doubt as to 



110 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

the place in the work which this chapter of 
right should occupy. As the heart that has 
not been at all given unto God, but is unre- 
servedly given to the world and to sin, cannot 
with propriety be said to be divided, the state 
contemplated must therefore belong either to 
the partially convinced, the almost Christian, 
or to the too worldly and almost backsliding 
believer. The phrase itself argues some de- 
gree of grace in the soul ; either grace par- 
tially triumphant, struggling against still un- 
conquered worldliness, or grace once domi- 
nant, but now on the wane, and in danger of 
defeat and expulsion. The state intended 
may, perhaps, be justly regarded as an un- 
christian state of the otherwise Christian soul. 
Its " faultiness" and dangerous tendency, there- 
fore, fix its appropriate location here, rather 
than among the gracious states of the renew- 
ed heart. 

It might at first be imagined that of very 
necessity the heart must be divided ; that it 
cannot be single and entire unto God. Yet 
he has thus challenged it to himself; and as 
he never demands impossibilities, it becomes 
us to ascertain what constitutes the divided 
heart, so that we may reconcile, if possible, 
the entire dedication of the heart to God, with 
the full play and exercise of the social affec- 
tions. 

This is the more important, because, on the 
one hand, some who profess to be Christians, 



THE DIVIDED HEART. Ill 

from an imperfect apprehension of tlie exclu- 
siveness of their spiritual dedication, " keep 
back a part" of that which rightly belongs 
unto God ; while others, again, whose love to 
him is pure and ardent, needlessly distress 
themselves, lest their human affections, heaven- 
implanted, pure, well regulated, hallowed as 
they are, should conflict with the claims of 
God. 

The first point to be decided is, what con- 
stitutes that supreme love to God which he has 
challenged to himself y and how far this is ex- 
clusive of all other affections. The language 
of Scripture is seemingly express. Thou shalt 
love the Lord thy God with all thine heart. 
This seems all-engrossing — leaving no portion 
of the aSections, or share of their exercise, for 
any other objects either in earth or heaven. 
And yet we dare not interpret the precept in 
this latitude, or carry it out practically in this 
full extent. There are qualifications of its 
meaning which are given by God himself, and 
to these we are bound to have respect. These 
qualifications are to be inferred from the ten- 
dencies of nature, and with greater certainty 
from the Book of inspiration. We are so con- 
stituted as to become strongly attached even 
to localities ; for example, to the spot of our 
birth, the place of our early and most touch- 
ing associations, and to objects of fortuitous or 
habitual familiar intercourse. There are with- 
in us a vast number of latent sympathies, 



112 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

which would be latent forever, or perish un- 
developed, unless elicited by correspondent 
objects of human attraction and regard. As 
these sympathies evidently belong to the heal- 
thy action of the soul, and are not the result 
of the moral derangement consequent upon 
the fall, the very fact of their existence points 
us, as though with the finger of God, to their 
exercise. The inference is neither dark nor 
dubious. It is one which is immediately and 
universally drawn. In the various affinities 
of social feeling, in the law of attraction which 
draws and binds man to his fellow-man, we 
recognise God's law of indirect but clear per- 
mission ; a law weakened by no counter ten- 
dencies, and repealed by no express declara- 
tions. Nature feels that the warranty is suf- 
jficient, and conscience gives to it its ready 
sanction, and bids us, without one misgiving, 
act it out in the life. In some cases, this law 
of natural affection carries with itself a coer- 
cive, a resistless force. It compels to obedi- 
ence. Take, as an illustration, the love of the 
mother to her offspring. Triumphant over 
hunger and thirst, suffering and danger, the 
desire of life and the fear of death — it may 
well be said to be stronger than death. In 
the other relations of life, according to their 
respective degrees of closeness, the impulse is 
proportionably strong ; and the implied sanc- 
tion of God, therefore, equally evident. But 
we have express sanction — the sanction of his 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 113 

written Word. There is positive command ; 
even " line upon line, and precept upon pre- 
cept." The voice of God condescends to 
speak to us of all the subdivisions of human 
regard. His eye looks upon us, not only in 
our individual capacity, but as we are grouped 
together in families ; and, independently of 
general philanthropy, he enjoins that special 
mutual love which is the only but powerful 
cement of family union. The duties of pa- 
rents to their children, and children to their 
parents, of the husband to the wife, and the 
wife to the husband, are specified with perfect 
distinctness, and the most affecting tenderness. 
And it is worthy of remark, and altogether 
definite in the case, that " the first great com- 
mandment of the law," which enjoins the love 
of God with the whole heart, is immediately 
followed by the kindred precept — " a second, 
which is like unto it" — " thou shalt love thy 
neighbour as thyself ;^^ while it is emphatically 
declared that " on these two commandments,'' 
closely allied in character and spirit, and dif- 
fering only in their objects, " hang all the law 
and the prophets." Most clearly is it shown 
that these two great branches of human duty 
and affection spring from the same source ; 
that they are only different exhibitions of one 
and the same great principle : the love of the 
creature being the effect and the test of love 
to the Creator ; for it is written, " This com- 
mandment have we received, that he who love 
K2 



114 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

God love his brother also : for if any man love 
not his brother whom he hath seen, how shall 
he love God whom he hath not seen ?" It is 
one of the scriptural marks of the unrenewed 
man in his worst state, that he is " without 
natural affection^ Unless, therefore, we sup- 
pose God to be a self-contradictory Being, 
who has enjoined mutually inconsistent duties, 
and who has appointed rivals to himself, the 
pure and hallowed love of our relatives and 
brethren upon earth cannot be at variance 
with the required devotion of the heart unto 
him. 

A powerful confirmation of this view, so con- 
genial with the teachings and the feelings of na- 
ture, is found in the fact that the Son of God, 
whose perfect love to his Father in heaven, and 
entire conformity to his will, are not for a mo- 
ment to be doubted, was pre-eminently dis- 
tinguished for the strength of his human aflfec- 
tions, and for their free and unrestrained exer- 
cise. It is impossible to read the narrative of 
his painful sacrifices and willing labours "for 
us men and our salvation," and not feel that 
** even while we were yet enemies he loved 
us." Besides this general benevolence, his pri- 
vate attachments were ardent and unwavering. 
The family of Bethany was peculiarly dear to 
him. "He loved Lazarus, and Martha, and 
Mary." In regard to the first, when he had 
been stricken of God, the irrepressible tokens 
of his grief constrained even the Jews to ex- 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 115 

claim, *' Behold how he loved him !" " He 
groaned in spirit, and was troubled." " Jesus 
WEPT." None can read his parting address to 
his disciples shortly before his crucifixion, and 
his last sacerdotal prayer in their behalf, and 
not feel that he spake truly when he said, " I 
have chosen you, and loved you ;" yea, that, 
"having loved his own, beloved them unto the 
end." Even amid his last agonies, he forgot 
not the mother who poured forth the feelings 
of a mother's heart at the foot of the cross. 
"Woman, behold thy Son: Son, behold thy 
mother." " The disciple whom he" especially 
" loved" was imbued with the same spirit. He 
was emphatically a man of love, the preacher of 
love. It is breathed forth from his every page 
— it seems to have indited his every word. It 
was indeed his "ruling passion strong in death." 
Few of my readers, it is presumed, can be ig- 
norant of the touching anecdote recorded of 
him, that when the infirmities of age prevented 
the active discharge of his ministerial function, 
and when his tottering limbs could no longer 
bear him unassisted to the house of God, he 
was wont to be led thither, and Sabbath after 
Sabbath to repeat the unvarying exhortation, 
"little children, love one another" — a brief, but 
a pertinent and most impressive sermon. And 
in every subsequent age we may confidently 
assert, that the most eminently pious servants 
of God, the most devoted followers of the 
Lamb, have ever been conspicuous for friend- 



116 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

ships closer than brotherhood— for an intensity 
of feeling in the dearer and sweeter relation- 
ships of life. 

From facts like these, the deduction is clear 
that the highest degree of legitimate earthly 
affection is by no means necessarily connected 
with that " divided heart," which is ever " faul- 
ty" before God. 

A farther illustration of the idea, that the in- 
dulgence of these earthly affections will not be 
viewed with jealousy, even by Him who is " a 
jealous God," may be drawn from the feelings 
of men in regard to the sharing of affection 
with other collateral objects of regard. Even 
in that most close, that most tender intercourse 
of the heart, where rivalship is the least brook- 
ed, and where an exchange of hearts is de- 
manded and boasted, the affection which is due 
to the other kindred relations of life is by no 
means proscribed. The devoted lover, who 
of all men comes nearest to the idolater, is not 
chagrined that the almost adored object of his 
affections should cherish with all filial tender- 
ness the authors of her being. He is content 
that she should impart her feelings and her con- 
fidence to the friend or the sister of her heart ; 
nor does one unkindly thought arise, though 
she should again and again be folded to a 
brother's bosom, and receive the pure kiss of 
affection warm from a brother's lips. Nay, so 
far from exciting the jealousy of a naturally 
jealous heart, from all these things there arises 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 117 

rather the confident expectation of correspond- 
ent fidehty and tenderness in the highest and 
hohest connexion of Hfe. And when that con- 
nexion has been formed, when the unalterable 
vow has been reciprocally made and sealed, 
and he is permitted to call the being on whom 
he had doted all his own, the sweetness of 
connubial fehcity is not marred, nor is there 
need to administer the bitte?^ and searching 
water of jealousy, because the heart which 
beats fondly for him beats also for others ; be- 
cause that house of which he is the acknowl- 
edged lord has a place also for acquaintances 
and friends, for brethren and sisters, for father 
and mother. The reason is obvious. There 
is no rivalship involved, and it is only rival- 
ship in affection which causes the heart to be 
offensively divided. Reasoning from analogy, 
then, we conclude that, as the relation in which 
we stand to God is entirely different from that 
which we sustain towards men, the feelings 
which respectively belong to these relations 
do not come into mutual collision ; that there 
is one class of affections which finds its objects 
among men here upon earth, and another class 
which must seek them in " the heaven of heav- 
ens,'' at the throne of God ; and that we shall 
not be unfitted for " rendering unto God the 
things which are God's," because we also 
" render unto Caesar the things which are Cae- 
sar's." 

It is in our spiritual as it is in our bodily or- 



118 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

ganization : the capability for action is elicited 
or developed by the necessity for action. As 
the female breast distends not with the pure 
stream of infant nourishment until there is a de- 
mand for this first aliment of infant life, even 
so every new relation of life opens a new fount- 
ain of love ; and in the great reservoir of the 
heart, fed as it is by deep and perennial springs, 
there is an abundant supply for them all. All 
these different channels of affection run in par- 
allel directions. They do not, indeed, unite and 
coalesce, nor do they at all diminish or drain 
each other ; and it is probably by no means 
extravagant to assert, that each is fullest and 
strongest when all are filled to the full. He 
who has no draughts upon his affections, will at 
last lose the power of loving others. He will 
degenerate into a poor pitiable lover, yea, idol- 
ater of self ; while he whose affections are the 
most frequently and most freely drawn upon, 
will have them always replenished and always 
fresh. The fullest flow, then, of the social af- 
fections, in their legitimate earthly channels, 
will have no tendency to prevent spiritual af- 
fection from rising as high as its original 
source, the primary source of all life and love. 
Nay, human love will be the handmaid to sa- 
cred love — it will assist the soul in its elevation 
to its God. The more we love those whom 
he has given to be with us here, the more shall 
we love him, the God and Father of all, for 
having made them our companions and com- 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 119 

forters during the weary pilgrimage of life. 
All those loved ones, to whom the heart so 
strongly clings with all its fibres and tendrils — 
friends, relatives, parents, children, partners — 
become so many links in the chain that binds 
us to our God ; and it may be confidently as- 
serted that, under ordinary circumstances, the 
Christian, in the bosom of his family, who there 
has learned the discipline, and cultivated the 
habit, and enjoyed the luxury of loving, will 
have at command a greater amount of affec- 
tion ever tending and transferable to his God, 
and will day by day, and hour by hour, send 
up a holier and more fragrant incense from the 
altar of his heart, than the poor solitary in his 
joyless loneliness, with none to " share a joy or 
divide a sorrow," even though he seeks literal- 
ly to " have his conversation in heaven," to 
hold communion with none but God. 

Let none, then, ingeniously torment them- 
selves by vain fears as to the indulgence of 
natural affection within the limits of its own 
appointed sphere. Let them not repress the 
fond yearnings and gushings of the heart to- 
wards those with whom it claims affinity. Let 
them not learn to look coldly and with a jeal- 
ous eye upon those whom God himself has 
cast upon their care, and entwined with their 
aflfections. Let them not sacrifice any of the 
sweet sympathies or tender charities of life 
upon the altar of a gloomy and mistaken faith, 
and then imagine that the sacrifice will go up 



120 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

with acceptance before the God of love. He 
desh^es it not ; it is at variance with the infi- 
nite benevolence of his character. Fear not, 
fond partner, to love the husband or " the wife 
of thy youth" with a devoted love, for he 
who hath made you one in the most sacred of 
bonds, intended that you should be one in heart 
Without one painful scruple, fold thy little ones 
to thy bosom, Christian mother! It will not 
" provoke the Holy One of Israel" to jealou- 
sy, nor move him to smite them in his wrath. 
They are the gift of God— given to be prized 
and loved. Still, lest danger should lurk under 
specious names and hallowed feelings, lest the 
Giver be forgotten in the gift, the Creator in 
the creature, let us remember, 

1. That no other object or being must he 
loved more than God, or in opposition to him. 

Said the Saviour, " He that \oYe\h father or 
mother more than me, is not worthy of me ; 
and he that loveth son or daughter more than 
me, is not worthy of me ;" and in the parallel 
passage, the remark is extended to " wile and 
children, and brethren and sisters, yea, and 
one's own life." The comparison as to the 
degree of love could only be instituted in cases 
of direct collision between the claims and du- 
ties of earth and those which have respect to 
God. In all cases we have the simple rule, to 
" obey God rather than man." If his will, then, 
clearly revealed, directly conflicts with the 
wishes and commands of men, however close- 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 121 

ly allied by consanguinity, or however exalted 
in station, the Christian can be at no loss as to 
his duty. Should he hesitate, or endeavour, 
by a crooked and accommodating policy, a 
middle course, to secure the favour of the 
world and of its Judge, " to serve God and 
mammon ;" and, above all, should he " love the 
praise of men more than the praise of God," 
his heart will be sinfully divided. 

The practical duties of life to friends and 
relatives are usually perfectly plain and ob- 
vious. On the contrary, calls to the extraordi- 
nary service of God, which must ever come to 
us through the medium of inward feeling and 
persuasion, in connexion ivith providential dis- 
pensations, are attended with some ambiguity, 
and always open to the possibility of mistake. 
This should ever be borne in mind when the 
balance is to be nicely struck between oppo- 
site duties which seem nearly in equipoise, and 
especially when a decision is to be made be- 
tween inward promptings, or what is termed 
an inward call, and human obligations or com- 
mands. Still, making all due allowance for 
the uncertainty in the one case, and the com- 
parative clearness in the other, and giving all 
due weight to the acknowledged claims of 
man, let us take care that the summary pro- 
cess of giving an immediate preference of'' the 
things which are seen" and " temporal," over 
those " which are not seen" and " eternal ;" of 
the requests and pleading of human affections 

La 



122 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

over the marked indications of the Divine will ; 
or that the habit of " setting the one against 
the other," and thus causing them to exercise 
a reciprocally neutralizing influence, do not 
make us recreant to spiritual duty, or coward- 
ly recusants of the calls of God, and thus cause 
that divided state of the affections which is so 
entirely faulty in the sight of God. 

Assuredly we believe that there is such a 
thing as being specially called of God, ''in- 
loardly moved by the Holy GhostJ^ At the 
threshold of the Christian ministry, the candi- 
date is solemnly asked if " he trusts that he is 
inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take 
upon him this office and ministration," and an 
affirmative reply is necessary to his reception 
of "the imposition of hands." The question 
proposed at this solemn hour must be some- 
thing more than an idle ceremonial ; and the 
answer must be supposed to be given in all 
" godly sincerity," or it would be a deliberate 
" lying unto the Holy Ghost." Why, then, may 
we not suppose the Holy Spirit to influence or 
move, as to the ministry in general, so to the 
special nature and sphere of ministration in 
particular ? Instances of this special monition 
are on record ; as, for example, when Philip 
was bidden of the Spirit " to go and join him- 
self to the chariot" of the nobleman of Ethio- 
pia. When, again, the Holy Ghost said, " Separ- 
ate me Barnabas and Saul to the work where- 
'anto I have called them ;" that is, to a special 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 123 

mission among the Gentiles. And once more, 
when Paul, in vision, having seen " a man of 
Macedonia, who prayed him, and said, Come 
over into Macedonia and help us," assuredly 
gathered that the Lord had called him to preach 
the Gospel unto them. Now, in our case, mira- 
cles having ceased, and special revelations 
being no longer vouchsafed, this special call or 
designation of the Spirit would have to be 
gathered from the ordinary sources of human 
judgment. It miight be inferred, with reasona- 
ble certainty, from a persuasion entertained, 
or a conviction impressed upon the mind too 
deeply and too abiding in duration to be re- 
solved into a passing whim or caprice, or into 
the influence of an excited imagination. Ad- 
mitting this evidence to be afforded to the per- 
fect satisfaction of the individual himself, and 
all his feelings to be enhsted on the side of obe- 
dience to what he deemed the heavenly moni- 
tion, he v/ould be convicted of loving friends 
more than Christy if, w^hile the conviction of 
duty remained clear and strong, the duty itself 
was neglected ; if, like the prophetic messen- 
ger to guilty Nineveh, he should decline the 
commission, and endeavour " to flee from the 
presence of the Lord." He who, with a long- 
ing and a burning desire to become a herald 
of salvation, or being such, to take the mission- 
ary standard in his hand, and to plant it upon 
" the high places" of heathen abomination, 
should suffer the clinging of his heart to it-s 



124 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

much-loved earthly home, or the entreaties of 
earthly relatives, to deter him from a work to 
which he was evidently pointed by the Spirit 
of God — he would present a marked and mel- 
ancholy instance of the heart unworthily divi- 
ded, through the force of natural affection. 
The love of self and of friends would be 
stronger than the love of Christ and of souls, 
and this would he his sin. Let those who are 
called of God, who are " pressed in spirit," 
" bound in spirit," beware ! 

Nor would these friends be held excused, 
if, from desires for his worldly advancement, 
and an unwillingness to sacrifice the comfort 
of personal communion with him, they should 
refuse to let him go at the bidding of his God, 
instead of saying, w^ith a pious mother of old, 
" As long as he hves he shall be lent unto the 
Lord." In either of these cases, the selfish- 
ness of private feelings triumphs over Chris- 
tian impulse, prevents Christian heroism, and 
even destroys Christian conscientiousness. The 
guilt of THE DIVIDED HEART is there ; and its 
legitimate consequences are found in disap- 
pointed hopes, conscious shame, vain regrets, 
bitter self-reproaches, sickly and languid ef- 
forts to do good in another sphere and other 
modes, and a quiet, speedy sinking into listless 
indifference and drivelling mediocrity. 

2. If we would not that family and friends 
should offensively divide our hearts with God, 
Ids mercy and his hand must he recognised in 
their hestowaL 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 125 

He is their Creator, he their Preserver. If 
they have a form that is symmetric to the eye, 
a countenance radiant w^ith beauty, w^hose ex- 
pression ever speaks directly to the heart — if 
they have minds of rare intelligence, and affec- 
tions of uncommon force and depth — if they 
have gifts and graces that attract the admira- 
tion of others, and make them the very joy of 
our hearts, then be these hearts sedulously 
guarded against a foolish and a guilty pride , 
and let us take heed that we do not spend 
upon the work of Omnipotence feelings and re- 
gards that should pass to the Almighty Woi^k- 
man. If it " were an iniquity to be punished 
by the judge," should " the heart be secretly 
enticed" to idolatry, in beholding " the sun 
when it shineth, or the moon walking in bright- 
ness," not less so would it be to rest in ado- 
ring love of a creature of earth, forgetful of 
Him who is " the Framer of its body and the 
Father of its spirit." It is right that the heart 
should rejoice in those with whom it takes its 
holiest earthly communings ; but the joy must 
be mingled with gratitude to Him " from whom 
Cometh every good and perfect gift." This 
only can redeem it from sm, and make it ac- 
cordant with the state in which we are pla- 
ced, and with the spirit of our Christian call- 
ing. 

But, 3. If the divided heart is to be avoided, 
friends must he loved and cherished, not as 
ours by any independent right, but under a 
L2 



126 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

practical recognition of GocTs unquestionable 
right to recall them when he wilL 

He does resume them when he will ; and 
neither reluctance, nor murmurings, nor efforts 
on our part, can retain them in opposition to 
his almighty fiat. " No man hath power to 
retain the spirit in the day of death, and there 
is no discharge in that war." We are placed, 
then, under an enforced necessity of acquies- 
cence with God's dispensations ; but this, it is 
evident, has in it nothing of the character of a 
Christian grace, and may coexist with a se- 
cret though fruitless rebellion against his will 
and allotments. The Christian who would 
avoid all sinful conflict between human and 
divine affections, between God's just claims 
and his ow^n imaginary claims, must yield that 
submission from principle, to which others are 
constrained by necessity. He must bow his 
heart and his head before the stroke which 
removes the treasures of his soul ; and as he 
sits in " the dust and ashes" of his affliction, 
he must still say, " It is the Lord, let him do 
what seemeth unto him good." Sorrow he 
may, sorrow he must ; for so God hath ordain- 
ed, so his nature is constituted. Weep he 
may, for it is his privilege, his comfort, his 
relief Tears are the overflowings of the wa- 
ters of bitterness, without which the heart to 
which they w^ere confined would burst. Yet 
murmur he must not. To Him, " from whom 
the whole family in earth and heaven is na- 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 127 

med," he must leave it to decide where his loved 
ones shall exist ; whether here on earth, or in 
the world of spirits ; and amid all the ruins of 
h"s hopes, and the bitterness of his griefs, the 
persuasion must come strongly and soothingly 
to his mind, that " the Judge of all the earth 
WILL do right." 

These, my readers, are no cold and abstract 
speculations on the theory of submission, inde- 
pendently of its application. Perhaps it may 
draw the cords of sympathy more closely, and 
give an associated interest to his present re- 
marks, if the writer admits you for a moment 
to the privacy of his home and of his heart, 
and shows to you that the yoke which he 
would impose upon others has but recently 
been borne by himself. 

Bv a sins^ular coincidence of circumstances, 
he had but just reached this part of his subject 
when the joy of his house was darkened, and 
his spirit bowed down by the pressure of af- 
fliction. The bhght came suddenly over a 
tender bud of beauty and promise ; it wither- 
ed, fell from the stem, and was given to the 
dust of the earth. The smile, that was as the 
sunshine gleam to a parent's heart, cheers him 
no more ; the voice, that in tones of silvery 
softness was wont to lisp his name, is hushed 
in death ; the infant loveliness, that was the 
delight of his eye, is hidden in the dark and 
narrow grave ; a bereaved mother sits sadly 
in her sorrow, and knows not how " to be 



128 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

comforted," because this loved one of her 
heart, this nurshng of her bosom, " is not ;" 
and now^, the earth committed to its kindred 
earth, the " spirit returned to God who gave 
it" — the busy busthng in " the house of mourn- 
ing," which wounds yet beguiles the troubled 
spirit, having given place to the cheerless des- 
olation of a house which the spoiler hath rob- 
bed — the pen resumes its interrupted work, 
and, guided by a trembling hand, feelingly re- 
cords what the heart practically admits, that 
the comforts and the comforters which we 
have here are but loans from our God, to be 
returned when he demands ; that, whether he 
" gives" or " takes away," it alike becomes us 
to " bless the name of the Lord ;" that our 
hearts must prompt, and our Hps utter, that 
meek declaration of our Lord, " The cup 
which my Father hath given me to drink, 
shall I not drink it ?" Thus, my readers, in 
all cases, let us humble ourselves under the 
mighty hand of God, and then, although our 
love begin with the beginnings of life, and 
survive the death of its objects, and linger 
around the'r grave, yet the heart shall not be 
divided, nor shall sin he added unto sorrow. 

These are the only restrictions which it is 
necessary to impose upon the exercise of hu- 
man affections. Only be willing, if called of 
God, to dedicate yourselves, or to give up 
those who are dear to you, to his service ; 
hold them, while they are spared, as blessings 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 129 

from his hand ; sorrowfully if it must be, yet 
meekly at the least, resign them at his sum- 
mons, and then, however intense be the ar- 
dour of your affection, your heart will still be 
single, and sin will not be imputed. 

It has already been shown that human ob- 
jects of regard but rarely usurp the throne and 
the sceptre of God in the heart. Not from 
them, therefore, is ordinarily the danger of a 
faulty division of its affections. No, not from 
the?n; but I will tell you what you shall " rather 
fear :" the " idols," other than those of flesh 
and blood, which " you have set up, each one 
in his heart" — the " lust of the eye, and the 
lust of the flesh, and the pride of life" — those 
varied objects of attraction, defying specifica- 
tion, which may all be classed under the one 
broad expression, " the lusts of other things" 
— that ambition which makes " the crown of 
life," " the kingdom of heaven," as nothing in 
comparison with a crown and a kingdom, 
rank and honour, powder and consequence, 
here on earth — that inordinate thirst after 
pleasure, which soon causes men to become 
" lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God" 
— that greediness after gain, which, while it 
seeks, Midas-like, to convert all that it touches 
into gold, causes the fine gold of Christian 
piety to become dim, and its pure gold to be- 
come dross — it is the master sin or sins, what- 
ever be their nature, w^hether of " the flesh or 
of the spirit" — yes, it is these w^hich you must 



130 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

fear ; for these may so divide the heart as at 
the last to become instrumental in " casting 
both soul and body into helV^ 

This faulty division of the heart can scarce- 
ly be supposed to be difficult of detection. If 
our human love had been turned from any of 
its wonted channels — if the allegiance of the 
heart to the object of its plighted and wedded 
love had been foresworn — if the parent had 
banished, if not from his home, at least from 
his heart, the child whom he once loved as 
his own soul — if " the milk of human kindness" 
had been turned into " gall and bitterness" — 
in all these cases it would be almost impossi- 
ble for the heart to remain ignorant of the 
change in its own affections. Thus, also, in 
regard to our devotedness to God. Even in 
the forming stage of Christian character, when 
men are but newly brought under the influ- 
ence of religious principle, when they are but 
going unto Christ, and have a full profession 
in close prospect as an object of hope and de- 
sire, if there be any one object which acts as 
a special drawback in their course, or any un- 
subdued worldliness clinging around the heart, 
and preventing its free and willing self-dedi- 
cation, there will be either a shrewd suspicion 
or a secret conviction in the mind of the true 
cause of the reluctance, although the deceit- 
fulness of the heart may in some cases shroud 
it under the cloak of mental difficulty, pious 
scruple, a solemn and overawing sense of re- 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 131 

sponsibility, and an earnest desire for very 
thorough and complete preparation. But in 
the renewed and already professing Christian 
this state w^ill be more easily discovered. It 
is impossible that he should have " lost his first 
love," and cease to do his " first works," with- 
out having some strong intimations from with- 
in^ and some clear evidences flashing upon his 
mind from without, to rouse him to a percep- 
tion of the change. A more frequent intru- 
sion of worldly and wandering thoughts — less 
frequent and less reverential thoughts of God 
— less tender and less affecting views of the 
Saviour — a less immediate dependance upon 
the Spirit — diminished delight in sacred medi- 
tation — indifference or dismclination to reli- 
gious exercises, public or private, and greater 
distraction of mind while engaged in them — a 
secret repugnance to sacramental participa- 
tion, or a constrained, formal, mechanical com- 
muning — a sensible loss of spiritual comfort, 
and a discharge of spiritual duties, as though 
they were toil and task-work — ^these are symp- 
toms not to be mistaken, which would induce 
any candid and conscientious examinant of 
self to say, " Now is my heart divided, now 
shall I be found faulty." 

The particular cause of division, the special 
object which disputes the heart with God, may 
be ascertained by noting the prevailing bent 
or direction of the thoughts and affections. 
Physicians have not unfrequently inferred the 



132 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

true cause of mental and even bodily disease, 
by attentively watching the pulse of the pa- 
tient v^hen different suspected causes w^ere 
brought into operation ; and he who will be at 
the pains to feel the spiritual pulse, will readily 
ascertain the relative degrees of influence of 
different exciting objects, and which of these 
objects engrosses to itself what belongs to 
God. As the needle to the pole, so will the 
heart point to its master passion. Let a man 
attend to his thoughts, and note the object 
with which they are most usually connected ; 
let him ascertain what it is that most attracts 
to itself his affections, and sways his conduct; 
what is the image that follows him to his night- 
ly pillow, and is last and longest distinct amid 
the dimness and confusion of waning conscious- 
ness, and gives the colouring to his dreams, 
and is present to his mind when it awakes in 
renovated freshness, and enters into the busy 
schemes of the busy day. This is his idol — 
the rival of his God. 

The cause being known, what shall be the 
remedy ? 

Like all the other converting and restorative 
processes of religion, it is natural, simple, and 
appropriate. It wdl strike at the very root of 
the evil. It will aim at the total expulsion, or, 
at least, at the complete subjugation of the ri- 
val object. Temponzing expedients will rare- 
ly avhil much, particularly if the idolatry of 
the heart, through long continuance, have be- 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 133 

come rank. It will not be enough that the idol 
be removed from its niche or from its pedes- 
tal ; it must be entirely removed from the 
heart : that is " the temple of the Holy Ghost," 
" an habitation of God through the Spirit ;" 
yea, it must be broken utterly in pieces, and, 
like the goiden calf in Horeb, ground as fine as 
the dust of the earth, and scattered to the 
winds of heaven, or mingled with the deep 
waters of oblivion ; or, to speak without a 
figure, the Christian will break at once from 
any attachment which tends to wean him from 
his God. He will be careful to break the hab- 
its, and cease from the engagements which 
gave and maintained its ascendency. How- 
ever necessary to his personal comfort it may 
have been rendered through weakness or hab- 
it, he Will sacrifice it at once to his high and 
imperative sense of Christian obligation. He 
will give himself anew, with fresh devotedness, 
to the duties and enjoyments of his religious 
days. By meditation and prayer he will en- 
deavour to rekindle the extinguished torch of 
spiritual affection, unite again the severed chain 
of spiritual association, and bind himself more 
firmly than ever to the service of his God, to 
the hopes of heaven. Under the influence of 
this revived and more powerful attraction, with 
a single aim in view, and an unimpeded course 
before him, he will go direct to the goal, and 
his hands will lay hold upon the prize. 

I need scarcely remind my readers of the 
M 



134 THE DIVIDED HEART. 

great importance of keeping the heart single 
towards God. Whoever has been for a time 
the sport of conflicting sentiments or feehngs, 
will remember how much under such circum- 
stances he suffered, and how little he achieved. 
The opposite attractions of the heart are the 
cause of pain, without the hope of advantage. 
The opposite elements of feeling neutralize 
each other. When the effervescence has sub- 
sided, he whom it has sorely agitated finds 
that, if the evil has lost some of its virulence, 
the good has also been impaired in its energy, 
and become negative in its character. Well 
said the Saviour, " No man can serve two 
masters." " Ye cannot serve God and mam- 
mon." The experiment has been often made, 
but never with satisfaction, and never with suc- 
cess. As well might men attempt to mingle 
the light and the darkness. Pitiable is his state, 
and tortuous is his course, who has too much 
worldliness to love God supremely and to serve 
him singly, and still too much religiousness to 
be happy in the neglect of God. He will be 
*' unstable in all his ways," and at peace nei- 
ther with himself nor his God. 

There is one consideration which should in- 
duce us to aim at keeping " the eye single, that 
the whole body may be full of light ;" the heart 
undivided, that it be not found faulty ; and that 
is, the unworthy state of the heart even at the 
best, and the worthlessness of our most holy 
services. Our power of concentration, wheth- 



THE DIVIDED HEART. 135 

er of thought or feeUng, is exceedingly limit- 
ed ; and when we have endeavoured to bring 
the divergent rays of mind most completely to 
their focus, and to give them the most burning 
power, and to throw all the energy of body 
and of soul into our Master's work, still, how 
little do we accomplish ! And shall we not, 
then, " do our diligence to give" all " of that 
little ?" Shall we abstract a single mite from 
so poor and pitiful a tribute? To give less 
than all that we have, and all that we are, is it 
not " robbery of God ?" 

After our best strivings, we shall have rea- 
son to lament the frittering away of spiritual 
energies by division and subdivision among 
many objects. This is, to a great degree, the 
necessary result of our constitution and cir- 
cumstances. We are compounded beings, and 
close as is the union, yet the parts linked to- 
gether are most dissimilar ; and w^e may be 
said to belong to two worlds — being tenants of 
the one, and the destined heirs of the other. 
The earthly body weighs down the unearthly 
and heaven-soaring spirit. The attraction of 
the material world is in direct opposition to 
that of the world of spirits. The " things tem- 
poral" keep us from the contemplation of the 
" things eternal." The " law of the flesh," the 
" law of the members," " wars against the law 
of the mind." In regard to somewhat of the 
division of the heart, we may therefore justly 
say, " this is my infirmity ;" and if that infirmi- 



13G THE DIVIDED HEART. 

ty be lamented rather than cherished, we may 
humbly trust that it will not be imputed to us 
as sin. For our comfort under the pressure 
of this infirmity, let us remember that it will 
not continue forever. In heaven there will be 
nothing to draw us oflf from our God. The 
glorified and ethereal body will have nothing 
at variance with the glorified spirit. The 
things will then be present which are now dis- 
tant and future^ and " seen" which are now 
" unseenJ' Our companions will love God su- 
premely, and, with the eloquence of heaven, 
will " provoke" us unto holier love. Our asso- 
ciations will all be similar in character, and 
tend to bind us more and more firmly to our 
God. No cloud shall come between us and 
" the brightness of his glory." We shall " see 
him as he is" — see him " eye to eye, and face 
to face ;" and to see will be to adore and love. 
Our hearts will be single, for our knowledge 
shall be perfect, and our joy shall be full. 



THE HAEDENED HEART. 137 



CHAPTER VIIL 

THE HARDENED HEART THE HEART OF 

ADAMANT. 

" But when Pharaoh saw that there was respite, he hardened 
his heart." 

"And Pharaoh hardened his heart at this time also." 
'' He that hardeneth his heart shall fall into mischief." 
*' Yea, they made their hearts as an adamant stone." 
" Being past feeling." 

In our admirable liturgy we pray to be de- 
livered from " hardness of heart," and perhaps 
in reference to none of the evils there enumer- 
ated and deprecated has the believer greater 
cause to respond, in the sincerity and fervency 
of his spirit, " Good Lord, deliver us !" It v^ould 
seem, then, that the Church evidently contem- 
plated this " hardness of heart" as a possible 
and probable evil — as one of those sins or sin- 
ful conditions of the soul so easily besetting us, 
as to be v^orthy of constant and special re- 
membrance before God in public prayer. 

Whether hardness is one of the invariable 
attributes of the natural heart, I am not pre- 
pared to decide. The negative of the question 
w^ould perhaps be best supported by facts. In 
the plast'c season of childhood there certainly 
is much tenderness of feeling, a hvely sensibili- 
ty to impression, and much phancy of disposi- 
tion ; and to these the Saviour doubtless had 
M 2 



138 THE HARDENED HEART. 

reference when he said, " Except ye be con- 
verted and become as little children,'^ &c. 
The infant or childish heart rarely, most rare- 
ly, steels itself against human kindness ; nor is 
there visible any decided repugnance to the 
admission of the more solemn and sacred claims 
of religion. Without admitting the vain and 
fanciful idea of natural or intuitive religious- 
ness, we must still perceive that facile, deep, 
and permanent impressions belong to child- 
hood and youth, of which the later periods of 
life are utterly incapable. This susceptibility 
constitutes the charm and the attractiveness, 
the importance and the value, of these intro- 
ductory periods of human existence. Every 
Christian parent knows the value of this child- 
ish tenderness of feeling and conscience, in or- 
der to early moral culture ; and Christendom, 
as a whole, has at length put forth a parent's 
efforts and a parent's tenderness for the young 
of her bosom, " the children which God hath 
given her." 

But whatever comparative softness of heart 
and of character favourable to religious influ- 
ence may be supposed to exist in the young, it 
is certain that it rapidly disappears and eva- 
nesces with succeeding years. Except where 
the direct and meliorating influence of religion 
is brought in, the heart, left to itself and to the 
world, rapidly hardens. It would seem as 
though a change, " growing with its growth, 
and strengthening with its strength," passed 



THE HARDENED HEART. 139 

over it, analogous to that which the body ex- 
periences. As in it the almost cartilaginous 
bones of infancy become ossified, and the mus- 
cles acquire firmness, even so in the spiritual 
part, that which was flexible becomes firm and 
unyielding, and toughness and rigidity come 
over all that was tender. Every year, and 
month, and day of unrepentant existence hard- 
ens the heart more and more. When the bodi- 
ly organ becomes the seat of a special disease, 
physicians inform us that its orifices and ven- 
tricles become ossified, and by that ossification 
utterly incapable of continuing the action and 
reaction essential to the continuance of animal 
hfe. No spiritual physician who has made the 
spiritual diseases of the heart his careful study, 
can be ignorant that something analogous to 
this ossitication is far more common in " the 
inner man" than in the natural and animal 
part. Whether there be hardness originally 
or not, in all the impenitent it gradually super- 
venes. Much of it comes through intercourse 
and collision with the world ; much of it through 
the gradual influence of time upon the mental 
and spiritual faculties ; and much of it is to be 
traced to self — the carelessness or the wilful- 
ness of men. And as the two former cause^^ 
can only operate through the last, I am dis- 
posed to view the stony or adamantine heartj 
that almost invariable concomitant of adult 
and aged impenitency, as the result oi person- 
al induration. 



..^ 



140 THE HARDENED HEART. 

Men harden their own hearts. 

The illustration of this truth ; 

The mode in which this self-hardening is 
effected ; 

The several steps which are taken, or de- 
grees which are passed in the course, with the 
distinctive marks of each ; 

The preventive and remedial discipline in 
the. case. 

These points, properly considered, will per- 
haps place this important subject fully before 
the reader in its practical bearmgs. 

I. The induration of the heart is a personal 
work. 

Men harden their own hearts. 

I hold this to be almost a religious axiom ; 
scarcely seriously disputable under any cir- 
cumstances, and rather to be admitted by the 
spontaneous and immediate acknowledgment 
of conscience, than to be established by pro- 
cess of reasoning ; and yet such is the lament- 
able self-deception of the human heart, that 
very many, I am persuaded, of those persons 
who do the most certainly harden their own 
hearts, *' yea, make them as an adamant stone,'' 
will profess to others, and endeavour to per- 
suade themselves, that they are most desirous 
of having them softened and impressed. 

It will be well to test their self-excuses, their 
crimination of others, their professions. 

Would they throw the blame upon the neces- 
sary and unavoidable influences of their world- 



THE HARDENED HEART. 141 

ly condition, or upon the artifices of spiritual 
enemies ? The agency of these we admit in 
its utmost extent. Yet will it not excuse 
them, nor disprove their own share in the pro^ 
motion of their own spiritual injury. 

That the world, with its vanity and corrup- 
tions — that evil men and seducers, by their 
converse and example — and that Satan, by his 
numberless devices — lend their combined in- 
fluence to harden the soul, is most clear from 
Scripture and experience. But then it must 
be recollected that these could have had no 
power over the heart, unless it were given to 
them by itself. That from without cannot in- 
jure, except through the concurrence of the 
will within : so that upon ourselves must at 
last be charged the guilt of all that was effect- 
ed through their seduction ; and that very 
hardness which we have connived at their 
effecting, may be regarded as having been 
accomplished by ourselves. 

As to charging this state of the soul upon 
God, it is an excess of impiety from which 
reason and genuine piety alike revolt. We 
pity those who can so far delude themselves 
as to give it a place in their minds or their 
creeds. Whatever be their professions, we 
can scarcely imagine that they believe it 
themselves. There is so much of absurdity 
or profanity in making God the author of sirty 
and still its subsequent punisher, that it scarce- 
ly calls for serious refutation. The only case 



142 THE HARDENED HEART. 

or mode in which God may be said to harden 
men's hearts, is when he does it judicially. 
It is in this sense that he is said in Scripture 
to " give them over to hardness of heart and 
a reprobate mind" — to " give them up to strong 
delusion, that they should believe a lie" — to 
*' make their ears heavy, and to close their 
eyes, and to make their hearts gross, lest they 
should see with their eyes, and hear with their 
ears, and understand with their hearts, and be 
converted and live." This, it will be observ- 
ed, is in no case a primary act. It never oc- 
curs at the very beginning of probation to 
prevent conversion, but always at the close of 
an abused probation, after men have utterly 
" refused to repent ;" and after natural causes 
have produced their appropriate result, of 
causing " repentance to be hidden from their 
eyes," and except by a special miracle, impos- 
sible to their hearts. Even in the oft-quoted 
and much-misrepresented case of Pharaoh 
God was only said to have " hardened his 
heart" after it was recorded that he had re- 
peatedly hardened his own heart. Without 
entering into any minute or laboured examina- 
tion of his case, it will be evident to an impar- 
tial mind, even on a cursory view of the at- 
tendant circumstances, that he was one " who, 
being often warned, hardened his heart ;" and 
to him, therefore, by just and most righteous 
appointment, it happened that " he was sud- 
denly destroyed, and that without remedy." 



THE HARDENED HEART. 143 

There was in his case an illustrious display or 
Divine forbearance. There was ever an in- 
terval for reflection, and a message from God 
between judgment and judgment. " The fierce- 
ness of wrath" was not executed at onco, 
" God v/aited to be gracious." Each new in- 
fliction of merited punishment exceeded the 
preceding in intensity, as though to show that 
God's resources were inexhaustible, and gradu- 
ally to prepare a hardened spirit for yielding, 
by teaching it that it must yield, or else, re- 
sisting, die. The catastrophe came not until 
" vial after vial of indignation had been pour- 
ed ouf'-^until warning after vv arning had pro- 
ved vain — until hour after hour of merciful suf- 
ferance had been wasted — until promise after 
promise had been remorselessly broken — un- 
til forbearance had been misconstrued into 
the hope of impunity, and because " sentence 
against his evil work had not been executed 
speedily, the offenders heart was set in him 
to do evil." Then, and then for the first, came 
the Divine hardening of the proud Egyptian's 
heart, as a preparative for still heavier but 
most justly merited judgment. And even in 
the case of judicial induration on the part oi 
God, the mode of his procedure is worthy of 
notice. It is not by any positive infusion of 
evil — by any direct act of power — by any 
hardening influence from above, that he ac- 
complishes this meet process of his punitive 
and retributive justice. It is only by the with- 



144 THE HARDENED HEART. 

drawal of a spurned and resisted spirit — by 
ceasing to strive with those with whom his 
Spirit has long striven in vain — by a simple 
abandonment of men to pursuits which they 
have chosen, to habits they have formed, to 
lusts they have cherished, to evil ways which 
they have eagerly followed ; it is only by this 
means that God instrumentally hardens the 
sinner's heart, or, to speak more correctly, 
permits him to be the hardener of his own 
heart. He only removes his restraining grace, 
and moral destruction is then accomplished 
by natural and personal means. His very in- 
fliction is but a permission, or non-prevention, 
by which men are enabled the more easily 
and certainly to destroy themselves. It is the 
giving to them full scope, unfettered liberty, 
and then they "make their'' own " heart like 
the adamant stone." 

IL As to the mode in which this is done. 

It may be done either casually and uninten- 
tionally, or deliberately and wilfully. 

The first is the more common. It applies 
to a large class. The effect in their case is 
consequential, and very gradual. The evil in- 
fluence is insidious and unobserved, until it is 
too late. An insensibility to sacred appeals 
and sacred influences steals slowly and imper- 
ceptibly over the soul. Day by day the con- 
fidence becomes less tender, and the feelings 
more obtuse, and the habit of sin more con- 
firmed; and yet the change is unknown to 



I 



THE HARDENED HEART. 145 

those in whom it is taking place. Tell them 
that the heart is more impervious to the ar- 
rows of conviction ; tell them that the proba- 
bility of their conversion is less now than it 
was years or months ago, and they will not 
beheve the fact. Nevertheless, di fact it is. 
Perhaps it may startle (and oh that it would 
startle !) some of my readers, who are improp- 
erly at ease, to know that there is such a thing 
as a negative, not less than a positive harden- 
ing of the heart, and that this is self-induced 
and self-increased every day and hour that they 
remain estranged from God. There is in this 
remark nothing overstrained, nothing paradoxi- 
cal, nothing but what is entirely accordant with 
the usual course of things, and necessarily re- 
sulting from the established law of cause and 
effect. I appeal to yourselves, and ask your 
own candid testimony in the case. Privileges, 
you are aware, lose much of their value by 
being long enjoyed, but enjoyed without bene- 
fit. Ministerial and other appeals lose much 
of their effect because they are so often heard, 
and heard in vain. It is not surprising that the 
conscience should (as we find it actually does) 
become seared and callous by repeated colhs- 
ions with Divine influences to which it will 
not yield, and by its famiharity with privileges 
which it practically disregards. We all know 
the force of habit ; and here the habit of re- 
sistance to God's Spirit, and to the external 
means of grace, is formed ; and that habit is 
N 



146 THE HARDENED HEART. 

strengthened by every new act of resistance. 
The spirit of insensibility, of hebetude, increas- 
es with indulgence ; film after film gathers over 
the spiritual eye ; obstruction upon obstruction 
blocks up the spiritual ear ; tegument after teg- 
ument is wrapped around the heart. Spiritual- 
ly speaking, that heart becomes ossified, yea, 
turned to stone ; and that stone waxes harder 
and harder, until it becomes very adamant. 
And all this, you will observe, unconsciously 
and without design, on the part of him who is 
at once the sinner and the sufferer. 

And now as to the wilful and deliberate 
hardening of the heart, until it becomes like 
^Hhe adamant stoned 

The very supposition of wilfulness in the 
case may be regarded by some as a libel on 
our race. In answer to the charge, let me 
point you to a few cases in point, which will 
sufficiently illustrate the ordinary modes of 
procedure. 

I begin with the child. When he tram- 
ples under foot the first " commandment with 
promise" — when, not through ignorance, but 
through Avilfulness, he transgresses in secret 
those parental injunctions which he dares not 
transgress in pubhc, and then, adding sin to 
sin, covers his transgression with the mantle of 
falsehood, or, with an audacity that apes the 
hardihood of maturer years, flaunts his disobe- 
dience insultingly before the parental eye, and 
causes a parent's heart to feel, in bitterness, 



THE HARDENED HEART. 147 

" how sharper than a serpent's tooth" is fihal 
perverseness and mgratitude — then, even in 
what should be the tender years of tender 
childhood, he purposely hardens his heart 
against his parents upon earth and his Father 
in heaven ; and beginning thus early, he will 
prematurely make his heart like an adamant 
stone. 

When youthful pi^ojligacy first begins its un- 
tempered course, and when conscience within 
rebukes, and nature by her external manifesta- 
tions warns ; the burning blush mantling on 
the cheek, and the quailing eye shunning ob- 
servation ; when friends remonstrate ; when 
paternal authority is tempered by paternal ten- 
derness, and a mother, in the agony of her 
soul, supphcates as for her life ; and when all 
is still in vain — when the determinateness of 
sin triumphs over every better feeling, every 
holier resolve bursts every bond, and mocks 
at every check ; when conscience is disregard- 
ed until her pleading voice is scarcely heard ; 
when natural shame is deadened, until the im- 
boldened offender " is not ashamed at all, nei- 
ther can he blush ;" when friends are reckless- 
ly alienated, and the parricidal spirit goes 
coolly and resolutely onward to break a moth- 
er's heart, and to " bring down a father's gray 
hairs with sorrow to the grave" — then this is 
to make the heart as an adamant stone. 

If a man finds his principles troublesome to 
him because they stand in the way of his sins ; 



148 THE HARDENED HEART. 

if he finds that his ideas of vice and virtue 
keep him back from many sinful indulgences 
of w^hich others partake without seeming re- 
morse ; and if, in order to escape from this 
restraint, he endeavours sedulously to refine 
his crude, but still just ideas of morality, until 
he can make his mental estimate of what is 
right sanction a practice which he knows to 
be wrong, then this man is personally en- 
deavouring to make his heart hard ; and if it 
can subsequently feel no more than the ada- 
mant stone, the guilt and the punishment of 
that inability must both he his. 

Again : When an individual, contrary to 
the remonstrances of his own conscience, 
strives to corrupt his own practice, adding 
constant fuel to every unholy flame which 
burns within, and strengthening every yet 
nascent principle of evil which may there 
originate, and, by following older offenders, 
daily matures himself in crime, then he is en- 
deavouring manfully (and doubtless the en- 
deavour will at last be successful) to make 
his heart like the adamant stone. 

Once more : They who actually set them- 
selves to resist every appeal of God's Word, 
whether publicly or privately addressed to 
them ; who say to themselves individually, if 
others are so weak as to be moved to repent- 
ance and to tears, I at least will not ; they 
who, when they find the appeal becoming seri- 
ous, and beginning to work its way to the 



THE HARDENED HEART. 149 

heart, and that heart ah'eady beginnmg to be 
moved — their fears all excited, or their re- 
morse begun — tears ready to start to their 
eyes — a prayer for mercy ready to burst from 
their lips — and themselves on the point of 
yielding to the power of grace ; then suddenly 
check this flow of inward feeling — drive back 
this fountain of tenderness towards the heart — 
dash the gathering tear from their eye — call 
up, by a desperate effort, all their cold philoso- 
phy, all their proud opposition — turn their 
backs upon him w^ho pleads with them hut too 
forcibly — shut up themselves and all their best 
affections in some angry, disparaging thoughts 
— whisper to their tumultuous feelings, to their 
agitated hearts, " This is enthusiasm, this is 
cant, this is hypocrisy ;" or, again, be it what 
it may, truth or falsehood, affecting the right- 
eous or the wicked, we, at least, will not yield 
— the truth shall not triumph over us ; these, 
these are they who make their hearts as an 
adamant stone, 

III. I notice that there are degrees of this 
induration. 

" Nemo repente turpissimus," was the just 
observation of a heathen poet. From a more 
sacred source we learn that " the way of the 
wicked seduceth them ;" that they " go from 
iniquity to iniquity ;" that they who, at the be- 
ginning of their career, if warned of its ulti- 
mate termination, would have said, " Is thy 
servant a dog, that he should do these things ?" 
N2 



150 THE HARDENED HEART. 

may ultimately verify the warning, and even 
do " greater things than these." The same 
lawr of increase or progression obtains in re- 
gard to the indm^ation of the heart. There is 
the yet tender heart of susceptible childhood — 
there is the partially hardened heart of un- 
sanctified youth — there is the stony heart of 
unrepentant manhood — there is the adaman- 
tine heart of ungodly age, or of rooted impeni- 
tency — and there is, last, the reprobate heart 
— the state " past feeling" — " v^hen repent- 
ance is hidden from the eyes" — when there is 
a very death of the soul ! 

It is not easy, and, happily, it is not needful, 
accurately to draw the dividing line between 
these several estates — to say where one termi- 
nates and another commences. It is enough 
to know that they are closely connected, and 
that he who begins with the first will not im- 
probably end with the last. Thus far, at 
least, it may, however, be safe to go, in the 
statement of discriminating marks. 

The milder terms are applicable to the ear- 
lier stages of vice and impiety. Progress, not 
age, is to furnish the test ; for there is often a 
precociousness in vice which causes a propor- 
tionately early induration, while in others, the 
hardening influence which years of spiritual 
neglect might have been expected to produce 
has been retarded or modified by occasional 
counteractive efforts, and seasons of softening, 
sacred impulse. 



THE HARDENED HEART. 151 

The heart may be pronounced hard, or far 
advanced m the hardening process, when the 
natural susceptibility, the docile disposition 
which usually characterizes childhood, has 
given place to a growing callousness and in- 
difference to all that is serious and sacred ; 
and when this has become confirmed and in- 
creased, so that there is hardly an occasional 
impulse of spiritual feeling, nor a feeble gush- 
ing forth of emotion — when the heart is insen- 
sible to any appeal, then have we the stony 
heart. When there is not merely insensi- 
bility, but positive resistance to sacred influ- 
ence — when that " Word of God," which is as 
a fire, or a hammer that " breaketh the rock in 
pieces," makes no impression, but is forcibly 
repelled at every stroke, then see we the 
marks of the heart of adamant. Rarely in- 
deed is that broken or melted to repentance. 
Becoming literally " past feeling," there is stu- 
pid insensibility, brutish obstinacy, daring de- 
fiance, or a calm and desperate waiting for of 
judgment. The judgment comes ; and they 
that on earth seemed stronger than the God 
of grace, crushed and agonizing in the grasp 
of his Omnipotence, feel, and feel forever, that 
" it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of 
THE LIVING God." And here pause, my reader, 
and seriously ask yourself what is the state of 
your own heart. Has your conscience be- 
come in nowise seared? Is the ingenuous- 
ness and the tenderness of youth still with 



152 THE HARDENED HEART. 

you ? Or have time and the world, and the 
flesh and the devil, exerted their malign and 
deadening influence ? Do you feel as you 
ought, or can you feel at all? In a quiet 
hour and a solemn frame, lay these questions 
to your hearts. " Judge yourself^ that you he 
not judged of the hordP 

It is well to be suspicious of ourselves — to be 
jealous with a holy jealousy — to " watch unto 
prayer ;" but we must be careful that this be 
not perverted, either unto needless personal 
discomfort, or to uncharitableness in regard to 
others. 

Let no one rashly conclude that his " judg- 
ment is passe.d from his God ;" that from him 
" mercy is clean gone forever ;" that he is *'"past 
feeling,^^ and cannot repent. The indulgence oj 
the fear disproves the cause of the fear. It at- 
tests its own groundlessness. If feeling were 
dead, fear w^ould also have been entombed in 
its grave. A^ the sorrowful and despondent 
spirit, which disquiets itself in vain with the 
awful thought of having committed the unpar- 
donable sin, the " sin against the Holy Ghost," 
gives decisive evidence that it is far from that 
sin of proud defiance, of dread presumption — 
even so does he who dreads lest he can never 
repent, establish the cheering fact that he de- 
sires repentance, and, therefore, that " repent- 
ance is not hidden from his eyes." 

Let none, therefore, be tempted to fall into 
despair of their spiritual aflfections, and, through 



THE HARDENED HEART. 153 

" desperation," to rush into " recklessness of 
most unclean living, no less perilous than des- 
peration." This is a device of the enemy 
which has slain its thousands. You cannot be 
abandoned of God, and sealed over to perdi- 
tion, while you tremblingly fear abandonment. 

Nor to others let it be lightly imputed ; 
this is forbidden by " the charity which hopeth 
all things." It is not for man to read the heart 
of his fellow-man — to go down into its lowest 
depths — to measure its capacities — to decide on 
its destinies. It is not for man to limit the mer- 
cies of his God, or the ability of his converting 
grace. In no case may we extinguish hope, 
and cease from prayer and effort, until the last 
sigh is drawn, and until hope of influence on 
earth is extinguished in that darksome grave 
where there is " no device nor repentance for- 
ever." Even then, charity will fear and grieve 
rather than decide. She will not rashly, pre- 
sumptuously " intrude into those things not seen, 
nor with unhallowed curiosity endeavour to 
discover the secrets of the prison-house." At 
the most, she will have rather a sad, sorrow- 
ful, shuddering conviction of the soul's perdi- 
tion, than a loud and confident proclamation of 
it, which seems to insult over the grave. 

But now — 

IV. The preventive and remedial discipline. 

The former is the easier, the latter the more 
universally required. Familiar proverb has 
taught us that " prevention is better than cure ;" 



154 THE HARDENED HEART. 

yet, as in the great majority of cases the hard- 
ness has already supervened, the curative no 
less than the prophylactic treatment must be 
stated. 

And, 1. As preventive means. 

Cherish existing sensibilities. 

Endeavour to preserve even those of nature 
in all their freshness and force. Let all the 
tender feelings and sv^eet affections of the 
heart have full play. Encourage their devel- 
opment. Be not afraid or ashamed of their 
manifestations. Dread not the reproach of un- 
manly weakness in yielding to their power. 
Break not the charm that in childhood and 
youth fondly lingers around the paternal home. 
" Honour" and love with holier tenderness 
" thy father," when age has bowed and whiten- 
ed his head, and broken the staff of his strength. 
Blush not to be folded to a mother's breast, or 
to weep at a mother's grave. Let your breth- 
ren and sisters be dear to you, although the 
sports of your childhood are at an end, and its 
sweet intercourse broken forever. There is 
virtue, there is power in these things. And 
even beyond this restricted but most hallowed 
sphere, cherish every feeling which bears the 
stamp of purity and God. " Thine own friend, 
and thy father's friend, forsake thou not." " Be 
pitiful, be courteous." " As you have oppor- 
tunity, do good unto all men." Let sympathy 
warm and expand, let the willing hand open in 
charity. " Weep with thpse that weep, and 



THE HARDENED HEART. 155 

rejoice with those that do rejoice." These are 
some of the more amiable promptings even of 
the unrenewed heart, and they sweetly accord 
with that holier " law of Christ," the fulfilment 
of which it is to " bear one another's burdens." 
Happy, most happy will be their influence, in 
keeping the heart from the icy coldness, the 
absorbing selfishness, the steeled hardness 
which but too much belong to this evil world. 

Again : Cherish religious sensibilities. 

These, perchance, are faint and few. They 
are perhaps but the lingering traces, partially 
effaced, of early religious impression. They 
are connected with the prayer and the teach- 
ings of a mother's lips, the counsels of a father's 
piety, the instructions of the pastor of your 
youth, or with those of the unpretending, un- 
wearied instructer who simplified to you the 
lessons of the Bible and the sanctuary, and who 
made God's day a day of special culture to 
your young and tender soul. What though 
these sensibilities, wellnigh extinguished, be 
but as a spark : guard it, for it is sacred fire — 
the fire of heaven ; and it may be fanned into 
a flame which shall burn brightly on the altar 
of the heart, until that heart be translated to 
bear the purer fire, and send up the more fra- 
grant incense of heaven. They are now but 
as " the grain of mustard-seed ;" still be they 
sheltered in the heart, for they shall yet become 
a " great tree,^^ They are a little, yet holy leav- 
en ; let it work its work, and it will still leaven 



t56 THE HARDENED HEART. 

the whole mass of thought and feeling. " The 
day of small things" must not be " despised." 
The faintest whisper of " the still small voice" 
of God must not be purposely drowned. Even 
these feeble and expiring sensibilities may be 
bound up with your hope of heaven, and if they 
are purposely destroyed, that hope may perish. 

A SECOND GENERAL DIRECTION IS THIS I 

Beware of all that has an actually harden- 
ing tendency. 

And, 1. Avoid the most distant approaches 
towards lightness and irreverence in regard to 
sacred things. 

Jest not with the Book of God, neither wrest 
its sacred words to the purposes of idle ac- 
commodation or profane application. " Sit 
not in the seat of the scorner," neither listen 
to the scoffer's impious jest. The heart soon 
hardens when all its hallowed associations 
are broken ; when to it all things are common 
and profane, and when in the whole earth 
there is not to it one object of solemn awe or 
of religious veneration. 

2. Avoid evil associations. 

The heart cannot long remain tender when 
its " chief companions and friends" are those 
who hate God and godliness. Whether they 
would undermine your principles or corrupt 
your practice, they are alike dangerous. Their 
" words will increase unto more ungodliness." 
The blight of their evil will come over the 
whole surface of the soul, blasting its every 



THE HARDENED HEART. 157 

excellence of thought and purpose, even in the 
bud. The companion of the hardened must, 
like them, " make his neck iron, and his brow 
brass," and his heart " like the nether mill- 
stone," or they will not tolerate his scruples, 
nor can he abide their daring. 

3. Sear not conscience. 

Let its dictates be unto you as the voice of 
God. Let its warnings be unto you as Ms 
hand, holding you back from sin and death. 
Let its injunctions be as " the cords of his 
love," drawing you to holiness and heaven. 
You may, by resistance, impair its force. 
You may cause its voice to be dumb forever. 
But remember, that when it ceaseth to speak, 
your heart will become as adamant. 

Finally, Resist not convictions. 

These are the beginnings of good. They are 
God's own strivings with you for your salva- 
tion. They cannot be neutral in their charac- 
ter and consequences. They either benefit or 
injure. They usually prove either " the sa- 
vour of life unto life, or of death unto death." 
Improved and followed up, they will " renew 
a right spirit within you." Resisted and re- 
pelled, they may return no more ! and then, 
God's Spirit withdrawn, you perish ! 

Our LAST GENERAL ADMONITION IS THIS I 

You must seek positive good. 

It is idle to expect that it will come to you 
as by chance or by miracle — that you will 
find it as your feet carelessly wander in the 



158 THE HARDENED HEART. 

" highway of hfe," or that " a sign from heaven" 
will aid you to its attainment. No, my reader, 
put yourself in the way of influence ; go where 
moral good may reasonably he expected ; listen 
to the faithful counsellings of private friend- 
ship, affection, and piety ; even from them 
there may come to you the " word in season," 
and that word in season, " behold how good it 
is !" The Scriptures, why should they be unto 
you " as a sealed book and a dead letter ?" 
Were they not " written for your learning 
also, that you, through patience and comfort, 
might have hope ?" " Search them," then, 
and see if to you they testify not convincingly 
of God's blessed Son. See if to you they 
show no record of mercy, and no charter of 
salvation. And in the house of God. there seek 
the blessing of God, for there hath he promised 
his blessing, even life forevermore. There he 
is more especially present, and there does he 
manifest himself as he doth not unto the world. 
*' Seek him" there, " where he may be found ; 
call upon him" there, " where he is near." 

We can conceive of impenitency settling 
and thickening over the soul of him who spurns 
the appointed means of mehoration — who dis- 
dains to pray, to read, to hear, to " wait upon 
God," but never, never over him whose Bible 
is his text-book, whose mercy-seat his refuge, 
and whose feet make haste to the sanctuary 
of God. He cannot become worse ; he must 
become better. His soul shall not be given 



THE HARDENED HEART. 159 

over to desolation. It shall rather be as a 
watered garden. " God shall make it soft 
with the drop of rain, and bless the increase 
of it." 

But what and if this preventive discipline 
which we have thus sketched be commended 
to you all too late ? What and if the mischief 
be already done ? the heart partially indurated, 
yea, made as an adamant stone ? What then ? 
Are you shut up in impenitency ? Is your 
doom sealed forever ? Nay, my readers, there 
is a relnedy : the Gospel is a remedial system ; 
it was meant for the hard in heart; its Au- 
thor came " to seek and to save even that 
which was moi^ally losf — " to call sinners, yea, 
even the chief of sinners, to repentance." 
Even for you there is hope, but hope only 
through effort. There is One who can break 
the stony heart, and " take it away and give 
you a heart of flesh." There is One who can 
raise the spiritually dead to life. Call upon 
Him with the importunity of prayer. Al- 
though seemingly unheard, yet pray again 
and again the more earnestly. Hope even 
against hope. In the very effort and act of 
prayer, your stony heart will become " broken 
and contrite ;" and lo, for your encouragement 
it is w^ritten, " A broken and contrite heart, O 
God, wilt thou not despise." 



160 CONCLUSION. 



CHAPTER IX. 



CONCLUSION. 



Our intended survey of the heart in its state 
by nature is now completed. It might have 
been easily, perhaps profitably, extended. Oth- 
er fields, not unworthy of observation, might 
have been examined ; views might have been 
taken from other points, and the sketches here 
presented might have been more ample in out- 
line and more perfect in filling up. Enough, 
however, it is trusted, has been presented, to 
give a faithful picture of its general condition. 
We have seen its surface blighted and wither- 
ed by sin ; neglected by its possessors ; un- 
cheered by the refreshing dews of grace. To 
none could the view be pleasing. We hke not 
to look upon the traces of desolation and de- 
cay. The most stately ruins are ruins still ; 
and the ideas awakened by their contemplation, 
although interesting, are still sad and painful. 
That they are not more so, in the case of the 
works of creation and the monuments of human 
art, must be ascribed to the fact that we are 
mere spectators ; with an interest in them so 
remote as to be wholly unconnected with feel- 
ing, while even the sadness that steals upon us 
is almost lost in the subhmity and awe which 



CONCLUSION. 161 

they inspire. But it is not so with the moral ruin 
caused by sin, consequent on the fall. This con- 
cerns us individually. It is the ruin, not only of 
our common, but of our personal nature. We 
are iadividually the sufferers. It is the heritage 
of our own heart that is laid waste. Hence the 
common reluctance to look upon our natural 
condition as it is. The natural man, shocked 
at the view, boldly denies its correctness ; the 
spiritual man, aware of its fidelity, is ready to 
weep as he beholds it. Yet to all it may be 
useful. True philosophy teaches us to look 
upon things as they are, instead of fancying 
them what w^e desire them to be ; to admit 
facts when their evidences are clear, how pain- 
ful soever be the inferences ; and to rise above 
that moral cowardice which is afraid to look 
an evil fairly in the face, or to measure it in its 
length and breadth. Had God provided, and 
could man employ, no remedy for moral evil, 
then " ignorance were bliss !" but as a rem.edy 
has been provided, and is commensurate with 
the requirement, the survey oi fallen nature, 
nature in ruins, cannot lead us to despair, but 
will only point us to the Great Restorer. To 
the unrenewed, a just delineation of their state 
may, " through prayer and the supply of the 
Spirit of Christ," lead to a blessed and reno- 
vating change ; while believers, " renewed in 
the temper and spirit of their minds" by this 
retrospect of a state which once was theirs, 
may be excited to holy gratitude by the thought 
• 2 



162 CONCLUSION. 

that it is theirs no longer. An inspired apos- 
tle has beautifully introduced a reflection like 
this : " For we ourselves also were sometimes 
foolish, disobedient, serving divers lusts and 
pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, 
and hating one another. But after that the 
kindness and love of God our Saviour towards 
man appeared, not by works of righteousness 
which we have done, but by his mercy he 
saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and 
the renewing of the Holy Ghost ;" and well 
would it be for " all who love the truth," and 
whom "the truth has made free," occasionally 
to review their former state in their ignorance, 
their sins and their sufferings, their affliction 
and their misery, the wormwood and the gall ; 
yea, to have them always in remembrance, 
that their heart may be humbled within them. 
Let me trust, my readers, that not in vain 
shall we have gone over the ground already 
measured ; and that, if the poetry of our state 
has been robbed of its charm, you will have in 
its place just and practical views of solemn re- 
alities. You have seen the evil ; go with me 
a little farther, and you will perceive the good. 
If you have started in affright at the picture of 
man in his degeneracy, when the image of 
God, in which he had been created, was lost, 
you will look with delight upon his likeness, 
when renewed again after the image of Christ. 
We are now to leave the territories of a 
sin-disordered world — the barren heath — the 



CONCLUSION. 163 

sandy desert — the gloomy wilderness — ^" the 
land of the shadow of death" — and we are to 
enter upon the examination of " a good land," 
a country of surpassing loveliness, where pros- 
pects of rich and glowing beauty abound — a 
country presenting abundant traces of spiritual 
culture — a very " garden of the Lord," water- 
ed by the streams of grace, " the rivers that 
make glad" the heritage of God — rich in the 
waving harvest, the goodly fruits of righteous- 
ness. That land of spiritual fruitfulness, cul- 
tured, and tended, and blessed of God, is before 
us. Let us hasten to its examination. 



i 



PART SECOND. 



THE HEART AS RENEWED BY 
GRACE. 



PART 11. 



CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

" Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you ?" 
" Lo ! all these things worketh God oftentimes with man." 
" The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirits." 
" There are diversities of gifts, but the same spirit." 

The doctrine of Divine Influence upon the 
Mind and Heart of Man is one of the most 
clearly-revealed doctrines of Scripture. It is 
stated in the most express terms as a plain 
matter of fact, and it is illustrated by the re- 
corded history of those who were once its liv- 
ing examples. 

It is still a doctrine encompassed by diffi- 
culties, and shrouded in obscurity and mys- 
tery ; by some it is boldly rejected as absurd 
and impossible. It is " thought a thing incredi- 
ble" that " the God of the spirits of all flesh," 
the eternal and all-pervading Spirit, should be 
able to communicate his influences to " the 
spirits of all flesh." The mode of communica- 
tion — the channel through which the influence 
flows — the chain by which " the fire from heav- 
en" descends, and by which the electric spark 
is to be given, are secret and invisible to us ; 



168 INTRODUCTORY. 

and because these are not discoverable, the fact 
itself is questioned. The great difficulty, ap- 
parently, is this : that both knowledge and feel- 
ing usually come to us by association with the 
visible world, through the medium of our ex- 
ternal senses ; and that we consequently find it 
extremely difficult to conceive of an illumina- 
tion of the mind, and an impulse given to the 
feelings, secretly, but directly from God, with- 
out the aid of the external senses, independent- 
ly of " the sight of the eye and the hearing of 
the ear." That the real difficulty lies here, 
will be admitted by all who have attended to 
the suggestions of their own minds, or to the 
objections usually urged by others. Without 
intending any laboured solution of this diffi- 
culty, or entering deeply into the philosophy 
of the matter, it is evident that our ignorance 
as to the mode forms no valid reason for re- 
jecting the fact of a secret Divine influence 
upon the heart. The ordinary mode of impart- 
ing knowledge and of exciting feeling is not 
necessarily the only mode. The resources of 
Deity are infinite in number, and the power of 
Deity unlimited in extent. The possibility, 
and even probability, of a direct agency of his 
Spirit upon our spirits, without any interpo- 
sing medium, might be inferred, moreover, 
from the attraction or affinity, as well as the 
repulsion, which is known to exist between the 
spirit of man and man here upon earth — from 
the powerful, rapid, and extensive influence of 



INTRODUCTORY. 169 

the sympathetic principle — from the deep im- 
pressions made upon the soul, and the vigour 
of its energies, when the bodily senses are ei- 
ther injured or precluded from their wonted 
exercise — from their admitted existence and 
activity when separated from the body, and the 
consequent probability of their power to re- 
ceive impression independently of the body, 
even during their union with it ; and, lastly, 
from the necessary supposition that He who is 
a pure Spirit, and the Father of our spirits, 
cannot but have at all times access to the spir- 
its which he has formed in his image. 

They, therefore, who scoff at the very idea 
of Divine influence as an absurdity, know Uttle 
of the nature of their own spirits, and still less 
of the Immateriality, the Omnipresence, and 
the Omnipotence of God ; but with such I enter 
into no protracted argument — I wage no war 
of words. There is little hope that this unpre- 
tending volume would fall into their hands, or 
that its contents would touch their hearts. 
Our best hope from them is from that same 
secret agency of God which their theory re- 
jects. 

There is another class from whom a candid 
consideration of the subject is asked and hoped. 
They are those who, while receiving the gen- 
eral doctrine of spiritual influence, still give it 
but a nominal place in their creeds, and no 
place whatever in their hearts ; and who, from 
the perversions and abuses of the doctrine by 
P 



170 INTRODUCTORY. 

the ignorant and fanatical, have been led to 
look with suspicion upon every attempt to il- 
lustrate its nature and extend its influence ; 
and to consider even the terms Grace, Reno- 
vation, Sanctification, as of doubtful orthodoxy, 
as ominous of latent enthusiasm. The preju- 
dices of such, it is to be feared, very seriously 
obstruct their ov^n spiritual improvement. En- 
deavouring to discard for a little time these 
prejudices, it v^ould be v^ell for them to re- 
member that the ahuse of terms does not justi- 
fy their disuse ; that the counterfeit presuppo- 
ses somewhat that is genuine, and that doc- 
trines may have been sadly distorted by man, 
which were originally revealed by God. The 
candid consideration by their minds of the 
doctrine of grace, in its scriptural simplicity 
and purity, may perhaps dispose their hearts to 
receive that " grace of God which bringeth sal- 
vation." 

Difficult and delicate indeed is the task of 
describing, correctly, the heart when under 
the influence of grace. When an earthly ob- 
ject is acted upon by two or more conjoint 
forces, we have formulae for calculating its 
direction, its momentum, and its ultimate posi- 
tion. But it is not so in regard to the soul of 
man. We have no means of resolving the 
combined force under which it acts — of esti- 
mating the quantity of the separate forces, and 
the momentum which each would impart 
The Divine and human agency are so strange- 



INTRODUCTORY. 171 

ly and inextricably intermingled, as to defy 
all separation. We can ascertain that both 
are at work, but we cannot learn where the 
one ends and the other begins, nor what part 
is respectively performed by each ; and this 
difficulty is still farther increased, and even 
rendered altogether insuperable, by the fact 
that the grace of God often, and even generally, 
acts through the medium of the human reason 
and moral powers ; so that we may often sus- 
pect its presence and agency where it is not 
present, and fail to discover it when it is. If 
man were a simple and self-moving agent, 
mistakes as to his character and conduct would 
be less probable and less dangerous ; but while 
there is this singular blending of innate and 
extraneous, of earthly and heavenly influence 
in his motives, mistake would be the more 
probable, and it might reflect upon the charac- 
ter, and derogate from the power, of God. It 
is to be regretted when human action is unin- 
tentionally misrepresented ; but we would far 
more deprecate a misconception of the act- 
ings of God, It is no trivial thing to lay to 
his charge what may be inconsistent with his 
attributes and foreign from his purpose — to 
ascribe to his Spirit the w^ayward fancies or 
strange inconsistencies of man ; thus making 
him responsible for the anomalies of human 
feeling, and for the conclusions drawn by oth- 
ers from the observation of individual con- 
duct. From presumption like this the author 



172 INTRODUCTORY. 

would fam be clear. He desires to think rev- 
erently, and to speak guardedly, of that mys- 
terious spiritual agency which none can now 
fully explain, and which few will understand 
until that period when it shall no longer need 
explanation, and when all mysteries shall be 
done away — an agency which influences, yet 
strangely harmonizes with our own — which 
moulds and changes thought, purpose, feeling, 
action, and still leaves us personally account- 
able — an agency which makes us new crea- 
tureSy and still destroys not our identity. This 
is unquestionably to be ranked among " the 
deep things of God^ To fathom its depth is 
beyond our power ; to plunge into it rashly 
would be to lose and destroy ourselves. Not 
in the spirit of rash presumption or of wild 
speculation, but in the spirit of humble confi- 
dence in God, and of devout " looking unto 
Jesus," would the writer launch forth upon this 
" mighty deep," having the Word of God as 
his chart, and the Spirit of God as his guide. 
No new and bold theories on the subjects 
of grace and conversion must be expected. 
These the writer dares not broach, and none 
who love the truth in its soberness, and the 
safety of their souls, will desire. Imagination, 
therefore, will have little scope in the follow- 
ing sketch of the renewed heart. Facts will 
be the basis of assertions, and care will be 
taken that general assertions he not predicated 
upon particular cases of personal experience. 



INTRODUCTORY. 173 

This is deemed especially important. The 
neglect of it has induced some to endeavour 
to bring all others, by a sort of Procrustes 
process, to the same spiritual dimensions, 
while it has induced others, favoured of God 
w^ith such tokens of Divine influence as were 
compatible with their state and temperament, 
to distrust these, and distress themselves, be- 
cause their private experience was not coex- 
tensive with the united experiences of all the 
pious whom they knew, or, in other words, 
did not embrace the aggregate experience of 
the religious world. If it were possible that 
this delusive expectation should have been 
realized, the separate parts would have been 
equal to the whole, and in the moral world 
there would have been distinguishable classes, 
but no distinguishable individuals under those 
classes. Personal Christian character there 
would be none, for it would be merged in 
the generic character. Spiritual individuality 
would be at an end. But this God himself has 
prevented. He has distinguished not only 
class from class, but also man from man. 
There are general laws of spiritual influence, 
according to which he deals with all his chil- 
dren ; but there are accommodations of this 
discipline to the pecuUarities of their individ- 
ual temperament and circumstances. Now 
this accords with all the analogies that can 
bear upon the case. Variety is one of the 
great charms of the kingdom of nature. In 
P2 



174 INTRODUCTORY. 

connexion with unity of design, harmony of 
proportion, and regularity of operations, it is 
one of the wonderful arrangements of the 
wonder-working Omnipotent Creator. Uni- 
formity delights us, as exhibited in generic 
and specific identity — variety is secured by 
individual peculiarities. The naturalist readi- 
ly classes the plant or the animal under its 
proper genus and species ; but when he com- 
pares the units of the species one with another, 
he can distinguish each from his fellow. In 
some respects all years are alike, for in each 
there are the standing " ordinances of the day 
and the night, the seed time and harvest, the 
winter and summer ;" and the seasons of one 
bear a general resemblance to the correspond- 
ing seasons of another. Yet the history of 
one year would differ widely from that of an- 
other ; and the meteorological journal of the 
accurate observer would show that seasons 
the most closely similar had yet their dis- 
tinctive peculiarities. It is the same in the 
kingdom of grace. The seasons of grace that 
go to make up the year of Christian experience, 
until that year wanes in the autumn of age, 
and is closed by the winter of death, all, on a 
general inspection, wear the same appearance, 
and succeed each other in a fixed order ; yet 
they are not absolutely undistinguishable. In 
the department of Christian feeling and charac- 
ter, there are divisions and subdivisions ; an 
easy and marked classification ; generic and 



INTRODUCTORY. 175 

specific traits ; but in addition to these, there 
are ten thousand nice and dehcate shades of 
individual pecuharity ; so that, as no two in- 
dividuals have exactly the same form and 
features, neither have any two exactly the 
same moral impress — a perfect identity of 
spiritual state and character. As God vari- 
ously distributes the gifts of mind and body to 
men, even so does it please him to dispense 
the richer gifts of grace, in different measures, 
and in varied combinations. It was undenia- 
bly thus in regard to the miraculous gifts of 
the Spirit. " To one," according to the testi- 
mony of St. Paul, was allotted, " by the same 
Spirit, the gifts of healing ; to another, the 
working of miracles ; to another, prophecy ; 
to another, discerning of spirits ; to another, 
divers kinds of tongues ; to another, the inter- 
pretation of tongues ;" and yet " all these work- 
ed that one and the self-same spirit, dividing 
to every man severally as he would." Expe- 
rience teaches us that a similar variety or di- 
versity characterizes the ordinary influences 
of the Spirit. In regard to them also we may 
say, " Now there are diversities of gifts, but 
the same Spirit ; and differences of adminis- 
tration, but the same Lord ; and diversities of 
operations, while it is the same God who work- 
eth all in alir There are some ordinary pro- 
cesses in the work of renovation, which are 
rarely wanting. There are some leading traits 
which we may expect to find, although not 



176 INTRODUCTORY. 

always equally marked, in each spiritual class. 
These will be exhibited. To go farther would 
be to descend to the minuteness and person- 
ality of religious biography. It is here intend- 
ed only to nark the wonted stages of that 
" way which they had not known," by which 
God is pleased to " lead the blind" to light and 
life ; and not to narrate the incidents which 
befall each pilgrim by the way. It is enough 
that these usual stages are passed, to convince 
the traveller that he is in the right path, and 
is advancing towards the city of his destined 
inheritance : or if the spiritual life, like the 
natural, be compared to a voyage, it is enough 
that the Christian steers the appointed course, 
and finds the proper soundings, and observes 
the first great landmarks, to convince him that 
he is near, and may hope to reach " the haven 
where he would be." And it is to be noted, 
that anything more special than this, in Chris- 
tian experience, is to be learned by personal 
experience, and not from books. Let no one 
here expect, then, an exact delineation of what 
may be termed the topography of his own 
heart. It is better known to himself than it 
could be to the writer ; but better still to his 
God. For that, therefore, let him look inward 
upon himself, and upward to the mercy-seat ; 
" commune with his own heart, and with his 
God," and thus discover what grace has done 
for his own soul. 

There is one solemn conviction, under which 



THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 177 

the reader is requested to prosecute all inqui- 
ries on this important subject, and that is, that 
the ordinary grace of God's Spirit is, under 
the Gospel, freely offered to all ; but that it 
must be specially appropriated and improved 
by all, in order to be availing to their salva- 
tion. The manifestation of the Spirit is given 
to every man to profit withal. And the great 
law by which is regulated the continuance 
and increase, or the decrease and removal of 
grace, is this : " For to every one that hath 
shall he given, and he shall have abundance ; 
but from him that hath not shall he taken away 
even that which he hathJ' 



CHAPTER II. 

THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 

** But that on the good ground are they, which in an honest 
and good heart, having heard the word, l^eep it." 

" Thy heart is not right in the sight of God." 

** Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy; break 
up your fallow ground : for it is time to come and seek the 
Lord." 

*' Wherefore laying aside all malice, and all guile, and hypocri- 
sies, and envies and evil speakings, as new-born babes desire 
the sincere milk of the word, that ye may grow thereby." 

To those who are wedded to human sys- 
tems, the " honest and good heart" mentioned 
by the Saviour would, perhaps, give rise to no 



178 THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 

small degree of speculation. By one class of 
interpreters it might perhaps be considered as 
bearing very decisive testimony to the idea of 
natural innocence and excellence, independent- 
ly of Divine assistance ; w^hile theologians of 
an opposite school might find it hard to under- 
stand and explain how "the heart" could be 
" honest and good" before the reception of the 
good seed of the Word, and, consequently, not 
indebted to it for its goodness. 

The triumph of the one, and the difficulty of 
the other, will vanish, when it is remembered 
that, in this instructive parable, the good seed 
sown is the Word of truth, the spoken or preach- 
ed Word, and not the ordinary grace of God. 
The parable itself contradicts the idea of intui- 
tive religiousness. Righteousness was not the 
spontaneous growth of the heart, nay, even the 
very seeds of excellence were not there sown. 
God sowed them ; and if he had not, there 
would have been no spiritual harvest. The 
" honest and good heart" can be construed into 
nothing more than a state of willingness to re- 
ceive, and preparedness to cherish, the good 
seed of the Word ; and lest corrupt nature 
should hence take to itself undue credit, it 
would be easy to prove that even for this fa- 
vourable state or disposition it w^as indebted to 
the prior care and culture of the Great Spirit- 
ual Husbandman. 

I shall not contend for a neutral ground in 
refigion — a state or territory midway between 



THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 179 

belief and unbelief, in which we belong neither 
to God nor the world, neither to Christ nor 
Belial. This would be inconsistent with his 
own strong expression, " He that is not with 
me, is against me ; and he that gathereth not 
with me, scattereth abroad." Still, in many- 
cases there is something which very closely 
approximates to this neutrality. The soul is 
disarmed of positive and active opposition, but 
has not as yet yielded cheerful, positive, unre- 
served obedience. Reluctance is succeeded 
by willingness to receive the good seed of the 
Word — and still it is not yet received. The 
preparation of the heart precedes the actual oc- 
cupancy of the heart by the seed sown or the 
springing blade. In other cases, however, of 
comparatively rare occurrence, which can only 
be regarded as the anomalies or exceptions in 
religious experience, this regular and natm^al 
order seems to be inverted ; and the Word is 
received into an unprepared heart, by no means 
" honest or good," itself furnishing the means 
and doing the work of preparation, and leading 
onward to that state, in which there will be a 
spiritual return, thirty, sixty, or a hundred 
fold. In such cases, the natural and unbeliev- 
ing man is " the strong man armed ;" and the 
Word, or, rather, the Spirit, by means of the 
Word, is that " one stronger than he, which 
Cometh and taketh from him all his armour 
wherein he trusted," and " bringeth him into 
captivity to the law of Christ.^' The Sauls, 



180 THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 

" breathing forth threatening and slaughter," 
are stricken to the earth, and made humbly to 
ask the direction, " Lord, what wilt thou have 
us to do ?" The subjects of this unsought and 
unexpected Divine influence are themselves 
amazed when they discover and feel its effects. 
They are astonished at the new and better 
thoughts, feelings, desires, purposes, which seem 
to have sprung up spontaneously within them ; 
and reversing the language used in the para- 
ble, they ask, " Did not we sow evil seed ? 
From whence, then, have we this wheat ?" 
These, however, I repeat it, are the mere ex- 
ceptions among the recipients of God's grace, 
from whose cases no general inferences can be 
drawn. They merely establish the fact that 
God is sometimes " found of them that sought 
not for him ;" and that, in his own sovereignty, 
and for his own wise purposes, dispensing at 
the first with human co-operation, " the prepa- 
ration of the heart in man^^ and " the answer 
of peace,^^ and \he promise of the harvest, are all 
directly from him. 

In all ordinary cases, however, the Word 
must be received into an honest and good heart, 
a heart prepared for its reception, or it will not 
germinate and flourish. 

The two inquiries that immediately present 
themselves and claim our attention are these : 

What constitutes the honest and good heart? 
And, 

How far, while mainly dependant upon the 



THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 181 

grace of God, is it in the power of men them- 
selves ? 

To inquiries so important and so entirely- 
practical in their bearing, I solicit the reader's 
close and serious attention. 

1. What constitutes "the honest and good 
heart?" 

For the sake of brevity and precision, I will 
mention but two particulars, to which all oth- 
ers may be reduced, viz., strict impartiality of 
mind, and such a state of the heart or affec- 
tions as will dispose, not to spurn and resist, 
but to desire, seek, and welcome, the influence 
of God's Word and Spirit. 

We are told that " the natural man receiv- 
eth not, neither indeed can he receive, the 
things of the Spirit of God ;" from this cause 
of moral inability, " that they seem foolishness 
unto him." His mind is occupied by unfriend- 
ly prejudices against the truth, while his heart 
has a secret, but rooted enmity against God. 
Now the first effect of an incipient better in- 
fluence is exhibited in the removal of the im- 
pediments in the way of faith and repentance. 
Still retaining that expressive figure, in which 
the heart is represented as a field to be culti- 
vated and made productive, it is evident that 
the first work to be performed is the plucking 
up of evil weeds, the removal of the thorns, 
and briers, and rubbish, the " gathering out 
the stones thereof," and the turning up of its 
indurated surface. Without this it were vain 



182 THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 

to deposite the seed, for it cannot take root. 
Apply this spiritually, and it will be perceived 
that the doubts which have grown up and 
strengthened themselves, and the prejudices 
which, thick, and tangled, and matted togeth- 
er, have covered its surface, must be removed 
from the mind, and the hard and flinty heart 
must be meliorated by culture ; and when 
this is done, what spiritual labourer or anxious 
observer but will feel that the most formidable 
obstacles in the way of moral improvement 
are surmounted ? The seed of God's Word 
never falls in vain upon a rightly-prepared soil. 
In God's time, and by his ordinary blessing 
upon his own appointed means, it springs up 
and comes to maturity, so that the great thing 
is to have the heart right with God, ready for 
his influences. 

2. Let us inquire. 

How far, while mainly dependant on the 
grace of God, the attainment of this honest 
and Good heart is in the power of men them- 
selves ? 

Our indebtedness to Divine grace for the 
power to originate and continue holy thoughts, 
and to imbody them in^ action, is unquestiona- 
ble. It follows necessarily from our condition 
as creatures, and especially as fallen creatures. 
It must be considered, therefore, in our subse- 
quent remarks, as always presupposed, even 
when not expressed. The reader will farther 
carry with him the idea, that to those who live 



THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 183 

under the Gospel scheme of grace and mercy, 
we regard this necessary predisposing grace 
as always given ; so that if men will obey Di- 
vine monition, and co-operate with God's pre- 
venting grace, doing their part of the work of 
preparation, all will be right ; and the honest 
and good heart, the sincere, right, and profita- 
ble disposition for the reception of the Word, 
will not be wanting. 

There is that which man can do, which 
God designed him to do, and which he must 
do, or any and every measure of grace will be 
received in vain. 

And, first : As to the state of the mind. 
Will any say that hostile prejudices and a gen- 
eral aversion to Gospel truth come to them 
unavoidably, and are afterward beyond their 
control ? Assuredly it is not so. Prejudices 
and aversions are often, indeed, insensibly im- 
bibed, and acquire great strength before they 
are fully perceived. They are drawn in, as it 
were, with the nourishment of infancy, or are 
bequeathed to us as a cruel paternal legacy, or 
grow out of the evil training of our early years, 
or the unhallowed associations of later life : 
but still none must assert that they may not be 
either self-cherished or personally displaced ; 
and that the power of disabusing the mind of 
their influence, and of bringing it to a state of 
fairness and impartiality, is not attainable by 
all who have attained the maturity of reason, 
and who have the ordinary opportunities of in- 



184 THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 

vestigation and improvement. Yet how stands 
the case with those who have a vague, but still 
strong prejudice, against genuine and deep per- 
sonal religion — who have always looked upon 
it with an evil eye, and felt towards it a secret 
antipathy ? Is there one honest, manly, vigor- 
ous effort made to shake off the trammels of 
this prejudice, to change this antipathy ? On 
the contrary, are they not permitted to fetter 
the freedom of mind, and to poison the springs 
of the heart, and to give their own law to 
thought, feeling, and conduct ? Is not dvery 
little circumstance that would increase their 
power noted and treasured up in memory ? 
And does not that power increase day by day, 
at the expense and on the ruins of rational and 
moral liberty ? Truly, we may all blame our- 
selves, if not for the origin, at least for the con- 
tinuance of causeless aversion to the truth ; and 
they who have so rooted and inveterate a dis- 
like, not of the Gospel in general, in the ab- 
stract, but of the Gospel as it appeals to and 
bears upon them, of all personal religion, as to 
render it almost impossible that their hearts 
should come under its influence, have either 
ministered to the strength, or winked at the 
growing usurpations of this dislike ; and even 
now lack the moral courage to make one de- 
termined effort to regain their independence, 
and to stand forth as fit subjects for grace from 
on high, as fair candidates for eternal blessed- 
ness, so that God, by his providence and law, 



THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 185 

Christ by the Gospel, the Spirit by his stri- 
vings, may bring the truth effectually to bear 
upon them, and save their souls alive. 

Again : Even where no mental prejudices 
stand in the w^ay. How is it with that indif- 
ference which " cares for none of these things" 
— which, instead of the improper preoccu- 
pancy of mind, seems to be a perfect vacuity 
of mind — which, instead of the perversion of 
feeling, is the total absence of feeling — is even 
this an accidental and a cureless matter ? 
Are we irresponsible for it before God, and 
devoid of all remedy against it ourselves ? 
Is it not, on the contrary, perfectly evident 
that the cause and the sin he at our own 
door ? and that the reflections and acts 
which would arouse us from it must be our 
own ? Although the fountains within be slug- 
gish and lethean as the sea of Sodom, we must 
ourselves, " through Christ strengthening us" 
(his strength being presupposed in all personal 
spiritual endeavour), move and agitate them. 
From the slumber of indifference and the very 
death of feeling, we must quicken and rouse 
ourselves, for the command is, " Awake, thou 
that sleepest, and arise from the dead." 

It may seem as though all were cold an(i 
dark within — and yet, from the latent spark of 
God's grace, there may be kindled the flame 
of zeal for eternal interests, which shall cheer 
and warm the whole soul. In regard to earth- 
ly things, men certainly do, by a personal 
Q2 



186 THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 

effort, shake off sloth and torpor. They do 
rouse themselves to a just concern for present 
interests, and a vigorous prosecution of tem- 
poral pursuits. They reflect — and reflection 
incites to diligence, sets the springs and wheels 
of their mental and bodily machinery in mo- 
tion. They gather motives, and these motives 
have their efiect. Now, why should it not be 
thus in spiritual things ? In regard to them, 
reflection would as naturally commence, and, 
for reasons of infinitely greater weight, ought 
to be pursued and cherished — the choice of 
motives is wider, and the motives themselves 
more elevated in character, and endued with 
a hoher force. The most pitiable trifler upon 
earth with his eternal interests, who, thus far, 
has not thought of them at all, can, through 
the grace of God, lead himself to think, and to 
think seriously and soberly. There is no 
natural or moral necessity, because of which 
any are compelled to hear or to read God's 
Word in dreamy listlessness, as though they 
heard or read it not ; for previous reflection 
and resolve, in the spirit of prayer and faith, 
would break the charm or the spell, how po- 
tent soever, that has held them, quicken mind 
to its work, generate a personal concern in 
subjects of lasting and awful moment, and re- 
deem the passing days of their pilgrimage 
from vanity : so that they are personally guilty 
for suffering upon and within them that spirit 
of carelessness and dulness which precludes 
the faintest hope of spiritual benefit. 



THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 187 

But, 2dly. As to the heart. 

To overcome its natural enmity, and to 
bring the moral affections to a right state, is 
certainly a more difficult work, in which 
prayer must be specially relied on, and in 
which the grace of God will be far more con- 
spicuous than the assiduity of man. And yet 
even here, while to God it appertains effectu- 
ally to " take away the heart of stone," and to 
" give a heart of flesh," he has not chosen 
that man should be altogether passive. Even 
the unrenewed can do much, either to perpet- 
uate and deepen their animosity against God, 
or to convince themselves of its unreasonable- 
ness, its utter futility ;when directed against 
him, and its certain reaction upon themselves. 
It is only necessary that, as reasonable men, 
they should bring reason fairly into play ; and 
that, as honest and candid men, they should 
deal by the Gospel and its Author with some- 
what of that common fairness which marks 
their dealings with their fellow-men ; and that, 
as those who live under the light, and must be 
judged by the law of the Gospel, they would 
walk by that light, and submit themselves to 
that law, and then all will be well. " Doth 
our law judge any man before it hath heard 
him ?" was a question very pertinently asked 
by one living under a far less perfect law 
than ours ; nor is it common to h^e another 
without a cause ; yet it would be well to ask 
whether the Gospel is not often prejudged and 



188 THE HONEST AND GOOD HEART. 

condemned without a hearing, and its Divine 
Author not only " hated without a cause," but 
in opposition to every reason that should in- 
duce men to love and serve him. It is very 
important for those who are still alienated 
from God, to ascertain something concerning 
that perfectly loose and vague repugnance to 
sacred things, of which they now know no- 
thing ; and to test fairly the validity of those 
excuses for self, which they have hitherto re- 
ceived without examination. In the course of 
such an investigation, their causeless opposi- 
tion will gradually weaken and die ; they wdll 
think less highly of themselves, and more high- 
ly of God ; and they will be continually ap- 
proximating more closely towards that right 
state of the affections, " that honest and good 
heart," in w^hich the Word takes root w4th 
ease, and brings forth fruit with patience, to 
the honour and glory of God ! 



PRIMARY INFLUENCES SPIRITUAL CONCERN. 189 



CHAPTER III. 

PRIMARY INFLUENCES SPIRITUAL CONCERN. 

"Now when they heard this, they were pricked in their 
hearts, and said. Men and brethren, what shall we do ? 

" Seeking rest, but finding none." 

*' Thine arrows stick fast in me, and thy hand presseth me 
sore." 

" I am troubled, I am bowed down greatly ; I go mourning 
all the day." 

** Mine iniquities are gone over my head ; as a heavy burden 
they are too heavy for me." 

*' Why art thou cast down, O my soul ? Why art thou dis- 
quieted within me 1 Hope thou in God." 

" Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and 
1 will give you rest." 

Supposing the Word or the grace of God to 
have been received, what will be its primary 
effects 1 how will it first display its influence ? 
The answer to this question will form the sub- 
ject of the present chapter. 

In some cases, the spiritual progress is so 
rapid, that we cannot trace all the steps in the 
course. The chain of Divine influence and of 
human experience is so finely wrought, and so 
curiously united, that we discern not all the 
separate, especially the primary links. In 
such cases, little or nothing is obvious and 
prominent to the eye, until it rests upon the 
tokens of spiritual sorrow. 

Generally, however, there is an introductory 
stage of restlessness, inquietude, and self-dissat- 



190 PRIMARY INFLUENCES 

isfaction, before, as yet, the impressed and 
awakened spirit has sufficiently turned its re- 
flections inward upon self to produce compunc- 
tion and repentance. This it is proposed now 
to illustrate — a state in which there is emotion 
without religious affection — an excitement and 
disturbance of the feelings, without their proper 
and religious direction. Now it is altogether 
natural, and to be expected, that there should 
be such a stage in the experience of the spirit- 
ual man. The first throwing in of light upon 
the diseased eye, or upon those who have long 
been kept in darkness, occasions restlessness 
and pain. Is it not to be presumed, then, that 
the first introduction of spiritual light upon the 
long-closed " eyes of the understanding," upon 
the sin-darkened mind, would produce a simi- 
lar effect? Would it not necessarily disturb 
the sluggishness of feeling, and excite rapid, 
strong, and almost convulsive movements of 
mind, and, at first, would not these movements 
be fitful, irregular, undefined, and undefinable ? 

Another analogy may be employed. 

When a pestilential influence is epidemic, 
taking to itself " the wings of the morning," 
sporting in the sunbeam at " the noonday," 
and brooding over a devoted spot under the 
dusky cover of the night ; although it taints the 
air, yet has it no individual influence, until it is 
received into the system ; and then, before as 
yet its symptoms are fully developed, the first 
ground for suspicion that it is secretly and insid- 



SPIRITUAL CONCERN. 191 

iously at work, is furnished by the fact of a dul- 
ness of mind and spirit, a general languor and 
restlessness, seemingly without cause, and yet 
beyond control. Even so, when the powerful 
but not malignant influence of the Divine Word 
and Spirit is abroad, until it is appropriated, un- 
til it takes hold upon the individual man, it is to 
him as though it were not ; and when it does 
first seize upon the moral system, we see not 
usually the more marked symptoms of com- 
punction and self-abhorrence, but only a strange 
and apparently causeless disarrangement of the 
moral feelings — a vague uneasiness — an incipi- 
ent change, of which time and results are to 
show whether it shall be for the better or the 
worse. In fact, the exhibition of these prima- 
ry influences of grace are altogether anoma- 
lous, and defy all regular classification. The 
mind and heart are then in their agitation, and 
it is not until this subsides that we can ascer- 
tain the level at which they will stand, or speak 
with precision of the deposite that will be left at 
their subsidence. 

Among those who have evidently been 
" pricked at the heart," whose heart " God has 
touched," the symptoms of incipient influence 
are exceedingly various. In some they are 
far from obvious, partly because they are not 
strongly marked in themselves, and partly from 
an anxious effort for their concealment. Still, 
even in these cases, the practised eye of the 
Christian examinant can scarcely fail to dis- 



192 PRIMARY INFLUENCES. 

cover them. There will always be somewhat 
to bespeak the " mind ill at ease ;" a restless- 
ness of spirit, a perturbation of air and manner, 
a hurrying to and fro, as though they were 
'' seeking rest, but finding none ;" and although, 
with Spartan endurance, they may seek to hide 
in their bosoms that which is preying upon 
their vitals, and neither by word nor act be- 
tray their inward torture, under the apathy of 
manner and of look to which they have school- 
ed themselves, some flitting traces of mental 
anguish, not to be mistaken, may be discerned. 
Known only to the mind through which they 
hurry are the thoughts which at this stage of 
the spiritual course chase each other with such 
lightning speed, or which meet and conflict for 
the mastery on its surface ; and know^n only to 
the heart itself Sive those " searchings of heart" 
which it is compelled to make and to endure. 
Now succeeds the more equable and more 
intelligible state of settled and deep concern for 
the souVs salvation — that state in which the 
question comes home with overwhelming force 
to the anxious mind, " What shall it profit a 
man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose 
his own soul ? or what shall a man give in ex- 
change for his soul ?" When the kindred ques- 
tion is anxiously asked of the book, of the peo- 
ple, of the ministers of God, " What must I do 
to be saved ?" When this takes full hold upon the 
mind, it aflfords good ground for the indulgence 
of a Christian hope of a profitable result ; for, 



SPIRITUAL CONCERN. 193 

connected as it always is with solemn and aw- 
ful views of the Divine holiness and justice, 
and of the retributions of eternity, it is identi- 
cal with that " fear of God, which is the be- 
ginning of wisdom," and which, in its ultimate 
results, will induce " to depart from evil." Its 
degree will, of course, vary according to tem- 
perament, the past habits and present occupa- 
tion of life, and the means which are used to 
divert or counteract feeling ; yet where the 
truth has struck home, it will never be wholly 
wanting, and will usually be deep. It ordina- 
rily triumphs over all minor considerations, and 
gains the ascendency over all rival feelings. It 
makes pleasure seem vapid, and business irk- 
some ; and, in supreme anxiety after eternal 
things, swallows up all petty, carking cares 
connected with the life that now is. It becomes, 
in fact, an absorbing feeling, causing nature to 
forget her wonted wants and infirmities, and 
every thought and eflfort be directed " to the 
one thing needful." " The eyes do not sleep, 
nor the eyehds slumber, neither do the temples 
of the head take any rest." The sufferer " for- 
gets to eat his bread, or moistens it with tears, 
and mingles his drink with weeping ;" and so 
complete is the concentration, and so great the 
intensity of feeling, that unless God mercifully 
interposed, and by his Spirit whispered the 
hope of peace and pardon, it is scarcely to be 
conceived that life could continue, or, at the 
least, that reason could maintain her throne. 
R 



194 PRIMARY INFLUENCES 

It is not improbable that, by many, these 
representations of spiritual concern will be con- 
sidered as altogether extravagant and visiona- 
ry. Even among professing Christians, there 
is a large class, who, having passed through no 
deep exercises of mind themselves, can have 
no conception of their taking place in others ; 
and who consider all assertions of their actual 
experience as feigned, through compliance with 
what they deem the overwrought enthusiasm 
and cant phraseology of the day ; or else, as 
the result of a diseased imagination, a morbid 
sensibility. In addition, moreover, to these cold, 
phlegmatic believers, who have repented with- 
out sorrow, or sorrowed without pain, and who 
are professedly attending to spiritual duties, 
without having felt any concern as to their 
eternal destiny, there will be the whole class 
of infidel objectors, of profane scoffers, who 
think it of all things the most ludicrous that 
men should remember that they have a soul, 
or should care at all for the location and wel- 
fare of that soul in its future and eternal state. 
Hopeless of convincing these, and therefore 
waiving all extended argument with them, I 
would only ask, What is more natural than the 
entertainment and expression of concern for 
that which concerns men so closely, so vitally ? 
Instead of being astonished that it should some- 
times exist, is not this the Wonder, that it 
should ever be wanting? Is it not most 
strange that a spiritual, immortal, accounta- 



SPIRITUAL CONCERN. 195 

ble being, with eternity before him — with an 
undying soul still in peril — with unpardoned 
sin resting condemningly upon him, and judg- 
ment staring him in the face, should be free 
from anxiety ? Surely this is the mystery in 
the case, past finding out ; and when he awakes, 
and is aroused from this slumber of indiffer- 
ence — when he perceives his danger — when 
" a horror of great spiritual darkness comes 
upon him," and he is " sore afraid," because of 
the just displeasure of " Him who is able to 
cast both soul and body into hell," then is it 
that he first begins to " come to himself;" then 
for the first does he feel and act as a reasona- 
ble being, so situated, ought to feel and act. 
His concern, his dread, if the term be prefer- 
red, argues just perceptions of the mind, but no 
unworthy quailing of the spirit. 

"What man dares do, he dares." 
" He who does more, is none." 

Let the dreamers and the madmen of a scof- 
fing world turn their pity from him to them- 
selves, and wonder and weep at the thought of 
their own infatuation and carelessness ! 

A deep anxiety for the final welfare of the 
soul is, then, both natural and becoming. 
That it is occasionally felt and displayed may 
be assumed as a fact. In ordinary cases, the 
exhibition is not striking. Individuals feel the 
burden of spiritual anxiety, but say little to 
the world, and at last, quietly, in the ordinary 



196 PRIMARY INFLUENCES 

process of grace, in the humble use of appoint- 
ed means, are deUvered from its weight, and 
because the cases occur singly and privately, 
they are but little noted. Sometimes, how- 
ever, the influence seems more diffusible. It 
is extended through the medium of the tender 
affections and relationships of life. From an in- 
dividual in the family circle, as from a centre of 
impulse, it extends itself to all within that cir- 
cle. Thence moving onward, it at last per- 
vades a whole church, a whole community ; 
and, provided the influence be genuine and 
wholesome, it matters little to the argument 
and the result whether it comes directly and 
wholly from a more general effusion of the Di- 
vine Spirit, or is partially propagated through 
the medium of the sympathetic principle — the 
social feelings ; because, in either case, it is of 
God. The writer is no stranger, and, he must 
add, no friend to the common perversions of 
the terms he has employed, nor to the popular 
abuse of the whole doctrine as well as practice 
of social religious impulse. He expressly dis- 
avows all intention of commending those re- 
puted examples of general religious impulse 
with which the press has teemed, and over 
the desolation caused by which the Church has 
wept, and still must weep. Yet he cannot 
consent, because of these, to deny or conceal 
the fact, that sometimes an overawing sense 
of God and of sacred things, so far from be- 
ing confined to individuals, pervades whole 



SPIRITUAL CONCERN. 197 

associations of men civilly or religiously con- 
nected.*' He would pity that pastor who has 
never been cheered in his work, by observing 
among the people of his charge an unwonted 
and almost general seriousness of mind and 
softness of heart — he would marvel at him 
who did not desire and rejoice in it — he could 
not but condemn him who should ridicule or 
obstruct it.f Still, it is believed that instances 
of wholesome general concern are less fre- 
quent than is commonly imagined, and that 
they are not to be viewed as causeless, or per- 
fectly arbitrary on the part of God ; but when 
they occur, may usually be traced to marked 
providential dispensations, or to a more dili- 
gent use of common appointed means of grace. 
Your business and mine, however, my read- 
ers, is with that which is individual rather 
than general ! And may you individually 
think it no scorn to have a reasonable con- 
cern for a spirit which cannot die, and a state 
which can never end ! 

* " That at any time, and in any country, in the course of 
Providence, there maybe circumstances producing a more than 
common attention to the momentous truths of eternity, is what 
cannot be doubted of by any informed of the transactions of 
past ages, especially as they have a bearing on the concerns of 
the Christian Church." — Bishop Whitens Charge on Revivals. 

t ''On every occasion of an extensive sensibility of this de- 
scription, there is brought a heavy responsibihty on the con- 
sciences of the ministers of the Gospel ; who ought, of all men, 
to be the most cautious of making light of a serious concern for 
the things of eternity ; and yet of countenancing extravagances, 
which not only bring the subject into contempt, but in general 
maintain only a shortlived influence over the persons on whom 
they dLcV'—Ibid. 

R2 



198 PRIMARY INFLUENCES 

Note, now, the ordinary expedients or act- 
ings of those whose hearts for the first are 
touched. 

These all contemplate either escape or re- 
lief Some, as we have hinted, hide their sor- 
rows, as they previously did the sins which 
caused them, in their own bosoms. Others en- 
deavour to pluck out the arrows of convic- 
tion only to find that their barbed points may 
not be withdrawn, and that to move them is 
to wound more deeply. Some flutter about 
in helpless indecision of purpose and impo- 
tence of effort. Others are roused to a keener 
hatred against the truth, a more determined 
" fighting against God." They close their 
Bibles, forsake the sanctuary, abjure the mer- 
cy-seat. Some fly to pleasure, and " prove 
themselves with mirth ;" others rush into 
untempered excess and reckless profligacy. 
While my pen traces these lines, the recollec- 
tion flashes across my mind, of one, now a 
consistent follower of Christ, and an orna- 
ment to his church, who, in the first agony of 
a wounded conscience, in the first madness of 
his rebelliousness against God, did violence to 
his innate delicacy of feeling, burst from his 
long -cherished habits of moral purity, and 
took part in abominations which his soul de- 
tested with loathing. In some, resistance is 
brief; in others, it is protracted. In some, it 
readily yields to grace ; in others, it defies 
grace, quenches the Spirit, and leads on to a 



SPIRITUAL CONCERN. 199 

reprobate mind. And, blessed be God, there 
are some, and those not few in number, who 
are content " to be drawn with the cords of 
love" — content that " the love of Christ should 
constrain them" — ^who, when they are smitten 
of God, repair unto Him, and say in their 
hearts, " He hath wounded, and he also will 
heal" — who love the word of truth, that has 
caused them to hate themselves and their sins 
— who hear it the more gladly, and follow it 
devotedly — and who carry their sins, their 
sorrows, and their fears, to the foot of the 
cross, there to hear the comfortable words, 
" Thy sins are forgiven thee !" It was need- 
less to say that their expedient is the best. 

Yet a word in reference to the treatment 
which this state requires. That treatment 
must be prudent and guarded. We have al- 
ready remarked that, when industriously con- 
cealed, this spiritual concern preys upon the 
soul in secret. On the other hand, it brooks 
not a rash and glaring exposure to the public 
eye. It is too sacred to be made the sport of 
every tongue. How impolitic, then, and how 
repugnant to natural deUcacy, and to the 
shrinking sensitiveness which belongs to first 
convictions, is the modern popular plan of 
organizing those who are its subjects into 
classes, of addressing them collectively, and 
of assigning to them particular and prominent 
seats in '" the great congregation," thus ma- 
king them " a spectacle unto men," " a derision 



200 PRIMARY INFLUENCES, ETC. 

to the scoffers !" The writer only wonders 
that, to such an exhibition, any mind, rightly 
constituted, could submit ; and he feels as 
though any concern, how genuine or deep 
soever, must be dissipated under the glare of 
such exposure, and all singleness of heart be- 
fore God be changed into the desire " to be 
seen and heard of men." To the bosom of 
friendship, to the heart of affection, the knowl- 
edge of it may be confided ; yet even theirs is 
not always the privilege to soothe it with effect,, 
to direct it aright. Few indeed are qualified 
" to minister to the mind diseased ;" and these 
few are such as have felt the pangs they 
would assuage, who have had personal expe- 
rience in " the things of God." But the best 
adviser, better than all on earth, is the Great 
Physician, the Physician of Souls. 



THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 201 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 

*' The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit : a broken and con- 
trite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." 

*'No\v I rejoice not that ye were made sorry, but that ye sor- 
rowed to repentance." 

*' For godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation, not to be 
repented of ; but the sorrow of the world worketh death." 

*'For behold the self-same thing that ye sorrowed after a 
godly sort, what carefulness it wrought in you, yea, what 
clearing of yourselves, yea, what indignation, yea, what fear, 
yea, what vehement desire, yea, what zeal, yea, what revenge !'' 

The terms which form the title of this chap- 
ter are highly figurative and beautifully ex- 
pressive. Like others vv^hich have been noted, 
they are drawn from the consideration of the 
natural or fleshly heart. Let us analyze them, 
that we may perceive their significancy, and 
correctly understand the state which they were 
meant to designate. 

The phrase " a broken and a contrite heart" 
immediately suggests to us the idea of force 
applied. That force, as we shall presently 
show, is a moral force — the force of moral, 
motive, and appeal — the stroke of God's Word 
and Spirit upon the heart and conscience of 
man. 

The terms farther imply a state of pain and 
suffering; and such is that state of spiritual 



202 THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 

feeling which they were intended to describe. 
The word hroken, when apphed to the body, is 
always associated with the idea of physical 
suffering ; but in its connexion with the spirit, 
the heart, this signification is deepened. The 
word contrite is so generally understood, in its 
secondary and figurative sense, as synonymous 
with penitent, that we have almost lost sight of 
its original meaning, which is, bruised and 
rubbed together. In this sense it is here used ; 
the heart is broken or crushed, and its wound- 
ed parts are painfully brought into collision, 
and rubbed, as it were, together. These terms, 
then, point out the extreme of anguish, and pre- 
cisely that kind of anguish which is felt by the 
convinced soul. Its sorrow is indeed keen and 
sharp ; and sensitive as it is to every impres- 
sion, there is a constant chafing or trituration 
of its wounded surface, which is correctly pro- 
nounced a state of contrition. 

There is another idea fitly conveyed by 
these terms — that of lowliness and self-humil- 
iation. 

When the pride of the heart is crushed and 
broken, and the resistance against God is at 
an end, then there comes to the natural man 
the feeling of defeat, and the unwonted spirit 
of submission ; and hence the Septuagint and 
some Latin versions, instead of the contrite 
heart, pronounce it the humbled or lowly heart. 
Humiliation, then, is another characteristic of 
the state of him who " has fallen upon the stone 



THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 203 

laid in Zion,'' until his obstinacy is broken in 
pieces, or on whom it has fallen with all its 
weight of evidence and motive, until it may be 
said to have " ground him to powder." 

I am aware that by some it is deemed a 
very easy thing to slip quietly out of non-pro- 
fession into the cold decencies of a worldly pro- 
fession of a Gospel that is not worldly ; tha^ 
very little of feeling is deemed requisite or 
proper ; that the calculating assent of the un- 
derstanding, and a vague impression of som.e 
obhgation to a religious life, and a quiet, chill- 
ing sense of propriety in the matter, are deem- 
ed amply sufficient as an introduction to the 
Christian life ; and, without any heart-rending 
sorrow for sin, anything that could at all, even 
by hyperbole, be termed a contrition of the 
broken spirit; nay, that there are some by 
whom it would be deemed either hypocrisy or 
enthusiasm to speak of excruciating exercises, 
availing to " the rending asunder of soul and 
spirit, of the joints and the marrow." With 
such, the act of profession is all in all; al- 
though it may well be doubted whether, in 
their case, profession either furthers or evinces 
any moral or spiritual change w^hatsoever ; and 
whether they are not virtually the same in the 
temper and disposition of their minds ; and the 
same in the sight of God, except the guilt in 
his esteem, of callousness to that which should 
touch and move the inmost soul, and of an un- 
meaning sporting with sacred names, sacred 



204 THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 

VOWS, and binding duties. In opposition to any 
such cool and phlegmatic entrance upon a 
Christian profession, in which there is but lit- 
tle of regret, far less of sorrow, felt or express- 
ed for the wasted and ungodly past, and little 
of holy determination for the future, that should 
be redeemed, the " broken and contrite heart," 
my readers, must ever be regarded as an in- 
dispensable item in all genuine Christian expe- 
rience ; as the dividing point between the care- 
lessness of irreligion in worldly and unrenewed 
hearts on the one side, and " the peace and joy 
in believing" of firm and renewed believers on 
the other. 

The degree to which the heart will be bro- 
ken will, of course, vary, according to its ori- 
ginal conformation, its greater or less degrees 
of native sensitiveness, the degrees of previous 
sinfulness, the force of the first stroke of con- 
viction, and the relative period during which ^ 
conviction has been continued and yet resist- 
ed, as well as according to the mode and char- 
acter of the advice or counsel ministered du- 
ring conviction : still, in the case of all, even of 
those who have naturally the greatest hebe- 
tude of feeling, and whose previous lives have 
been the least stained by practical defilement, 
there will be something that will answer to the 
expression of " a broken and contrite heart." 
Any mode, by which careless, sinful men may 
become meek and lowly believers, thorough 
practical Christians, independently of this try- 



THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 205 

ing process, is a means of man's devising, un- 
sanctioned of God, and utterly unknown to the 
saints of old under the first dispensation, as 
well as to those who, under the second dispen- 
sation, preached or received the Gospel of 
" repentance towards God, and of faith to- 
wards the Lord Jesus Christ." 

-Let not this state, however, be confounded 
with that of the broken heart of which the 
world is wont to speak, and by which many 
who w^ere of the world have " gone down to 
the grave mourning." They are as distinct 
as the earth and the heavens ; for the one " is 
of the earth, earthy," the other is of " the Lord 
from heaven ;" the one is " the savour of death 
unto death," the other " of life unto life." The 
apostle has finely, graphically distinguished 
between them : " The sorrow of the world 
worketh death, but godly sorrow worketh 
repentance unto hfe not to be repented of." 
Occasionally, but rarely, the believer, utterly 
overwhelmed by unexpected and desolating 
calamity, sinks to rise no more. The stroke 
of affliction may fall so suddenly and so forci- 
bly, even upon him, that he may " die of a 
broken heart." " The spirit may be willing, 
but the flesh weak." The saint in his spirit 
may " endure as seeing him who is invisible," 
while the man may feel, and mourn, and die. 
But such cases are rare. They who pine 
away in inconsolable grief, or whose hearts 
break for very sorrow, are usually those who 
S 



206 THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 

live but to the world and for the world ; and 
who, disappointed there, having naught beside, 
no sustaining hope, no better prospect before 
them, no happier state in reversion — in vain 
regrets, in carking care, in bitter disappoint- 
ment, in impious repinings, wear away the 
stamina of life, and, despairing, die. Religion 
would have saved them ; the want of it is their 
ruin. Religious sorrow peoples not the grave. 
Instead of destroying the body, it " saves the 
soul alive." The hand that wounds also heals. 
He that breaks " binds up the broken-hearted." 
" Troubled on every side, yet not forever dis- 
tressed ; persecuted, but not forsaken ; per- 
plexed, but not in despair ; cast down, but not 
destroyed," the believer comes forth from the 
fiery trial of his spiritual sorrows with less of 
the dross of earth, and more of the purity and 
brightness of heaven. Every trial to him has 
its value, every stroke is a stroke of mercy, 
every tear cleanses as it flows. The broken 
and contrite heart is to him the pledge of a 
saved soul, of heaven in reversion ; for " a 
broken, contrite heart God will not despise." 

Such was the sure conviction of the pious 
psalmist ; and in this conviction, we, under 
the fuller light which the Gospel has thrown 
upon the whole subject of pardon and accept- 
ance, cannot but unite. Without ascribing to 
the mere act of contrition any propitiatory in- 
fluence, any inherent power to put away sin 
and to purchase acceptance, it is still conso- 



THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 207 

nant with all our natural ideas of the Divine 
character, as well as with God's own solemn 
assurances, to suppose that this act or state 
will not by him be overlooked. If he himself 
hate sin, then assuredly there must be in him 
more of complacency towards man, when he 
also hates and abhors his sins, than when he 
retains and glories in them ; the penitent must 
be more acceptable than the profligate. Rea- 
son, therefore, seems to anticipate those express 
declarations which, as though to make assu- 
rance doubly sure, God has graciously given. 
" Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, 
and he shall lift you up." " He that humbleth 
himself shall be exalted." " Blessed are they 
that mourn, for they shall be comforted." 
" Thus saith the high and lofty One that in- 
habiteth eternity, whose name is holy ; to this 
man will I look ; even to him that is poor and 
of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word !" 
Of the truth of these assurances, there is a sure 
and blessed witness in the spiritual mourner's 
own breast — in the light that breaks in upon 
his darkness — in the hope that ever and anon 
suggests itself to him amid his doubts — in the 
preference which he gives, and the tenacity 
with which he clings to his spiritual sorrow, 
rather than to his former joys in his sin, to 
which he would not return, even if he might 
— and when the tempest of his soul has been 
stilled to rest by Him who only hath power 
to say, "Peace, he stillj' then the quietude 



208 THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 

and joyfulness of his emancipated spirit, " the 
peace within him passing all understanding," 
THIS, this is God's own witness to him that " the 
broken and contrite heart" will not be de- 
spised ! 

It is not intended here to go over the hack- 
neyed ground of the whole wide subject of 
repentance. Where all are perfectly familiar 
with scenery, its description is unnecessary. 
The necessity of repentance is therefore as- 
sumed as granted for the present, because it 
follows necessarily from our condition as sin- 
ners, and from the reasonable as well as scrip- 
turally declared fact that " without holiness 
no man can see God," and the almost synony- 
mous truth, " that except we repent, we shall 
all inevitably perish." 

There are, however, some points that should 
briefly claim our attention : the position of re- 
pentance in regard to faith — the mode by which 
the heart is broken to repentance — and the evi- 
dences of this state. 

I. As to the position of repen,tance in re- 
gard to faith. 

There has been a diflference among differ- 
ent writers as to priority in time, and prece- 
dence in influence, between these two ac- 
knowledged essentials of a truly Christian 
state. Perhaps this point, not definitely set- 
tled of God, has been too dogmatically treated 
by men, without sufficient data, on the ground 
merely of their own limited experience. It 



THE BROKEN AND CONTKITE HEART. 209 

may well be doubted whether repentance and 
faith ever stand in the relation of cause and 
effect^ and whether there is absolute uniform- 
ity as to the order in which they occur. 
Scripture itself seems in different places to 
sjpeak differently on the subject, and the dis- 
crepancy in individual sentiment may perhaps 
originate from an exclusive regard to individ- 
ual passages, without the comparison of Scrip- 
ture with Scripture. Thus, in one case, in 
answer to the inquiry what must be done to 
be saved, it is stated, " Beheve on the Lord 
Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved," re- 
pentance not even being mentioned ; while, 
on another occasion, the answer to the very 
same question is, " Repent ye, therefore, and 
be converted, that your sins may be blotted 
out," faith in the Redeemer being left to be 
inferred by the auditors to whom its necessity 
had been so boldly and thoroughly preached. 
Yet there is no contradiction in the directions 
given. In each case respectively, the direc- 
tion went to the point of special and most 
pressing requirement in the hearer, and the 
duty not expressly stated was in each case 
tacitly understood. This seeming vagueness 
of the oracles of God was not without its de- 
sign. It was intended to correspond with 
actual experience, and to be as comprehen- 
sive as the range of facts in the case. Expe- 
rience, it is believed, would warrant the asser- 
tion that in some cases repentance precedes 
S2 



210 THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 

faith, while in others faith moves to repent- 
ance. The conviction of sin is perhaps strong, 
the sorrow for it deep, the heart " broken and 
contrite," before as yet there is heard or real- 
ized the comfortable truth, the glad tidings, 
that there is a propitiation for sin — a Prince 
and a Saviour to give remission for sin — one 
specially appointed of God to " bind up the 
broken-hearted." Here it is evidently the 
feeling of the guilt of sin, and the sorrow^ felt 
for its commission, that lead men to inquire 
and ascertain who or what shall atone for sin, 
and thus direct them " to the Lamb of God that 
taketh away the sins of the world." Repent- 
ance, in these cases, precedes faith, and faith 
again takes away the bitterness, while it secures 
evangelical completeness and efficacy of re- 
pentance. Again, the order seems to be re- 
versed. A lively view of Christ in his gra- 
cious and redeeming character, strikes the 
eye, and leads captive the amazed soul of him 
who has never yet felt " the plague of his own 
heart," the heinousness of his own sin. The 
preaching of the Saviour first awakens to a 
sense of the need of the Saviour. It is the 
" goodness of God," as evinced in the Gospel of 
his Son, which leadeth to repentance ; while, 
again, repentance causes that Gospel to be most 
fully and affectingly realized. All that need to 
be said is, that both are essential ; that their 
order may vary, but that neither can be want- 
ing to genuine conversion ; that they act and 



THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 211 

react upon each other, penitence deepening 
faith, while faith provokes to repentance ; and 
that, by the united influences of both, the soul * 
is cleansed and prepared for the presence of 
Him into whose presence " entereth nothing 
that is unholy or unclean." 

How, then, does the heart, naturally hard and 
fiinty, become broken and contrite ? 

The very expression implies an agent, and 
that agent is God ; for this breaking of the hard 
and stony heart is a part of the process by which 
he accomplishes that striking promise of his 
Word, " I will take away the heart of stone, and 
give a heart of flesh." Yet here he works 
not arbitrarily, or with compulsory force, but 
through the medium of moral influences and 
moral suasion, gently securing the acquiescence 
and co-operation of man himself Among the 
means of influence, his own Word, seconded by 
his good Spirit, is the most common and the 
most effective. In reference to it, well was it 
asked by the prophet, " Is not thy Word as a 
fire, and as a hammer that breaketh the rock 
in pieces ?" The analogy correctly and forci- 
bly describes the power of the agent, but the 
inference must not be drawn that there is equal 
passiveness, and necessary subjection to change 
in the object: for as that object is spirit, and not 
matter, and in itself endued with the power of 
moral agency, mechanical and irresistible influ- 
ence upon it is out of the question. Acknowl- 
edging God as the giver of the grace of re- 



212 THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 

pentance, and his Word as sufficient to break 
the stubborn, or melt the icy heart, it is still not 
ascribing too much to man to assert that the 
probability of being moved to genuine contri- 
tion may be either increased or diminished, and 
the time of repentance either accelerated or re- 
tarded by the state of mind and feeling which 
is deliberately cherished, and the course of 
thought, effort, and action that is rendered ha- 
bitual. If the reader has borne in mind the re- 
marks made in reference to the attainment of 
" the honest and good heart," he will readily 
apply them here ; and he will justly conclude, 
that while the agency of God does not excuse 
man from action, the call to human effort, on 
the other hand, intends no unworthy rehance 
on human strength, and neither denies nor dis- 
parages the converting grace of God. Waiv- 
ing all controversy on the subject, the author 
would fain present the wholesome and scriptu- 
ral truth, that " the broken and contrite heart" 
must be sought and expected from God, in im- 
mediate connexion with the practical question, 
to be addressed by every one to his own heart : 
Am / pursuing such strains of habitual reflec- 
tion, and such courses of moral discipline, as 
would naturally tend to humble me before God, 
and to make me a mourner for sin? or am I 
not striving against conviction, and encoura- 
ging myself in impenitence ? And may each 
one so "judge himself" in this important point, 
" that he be not judged of the Lord." 



THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 213 

In the sense here affixed to " the broken and 
contrite heart," it is a part, then, of that one great 
change by which " the power of sin and Satan'* 
is destroyed, and the kingdom of God estabhsh- 
ed in the soul. Yet in a lower sense, the terms 
admit of frequent application to the same indi- 
vidual. Even the renewed believer, whose 
heart has been once thoroughly broken and 
bound up, may (in the language of one of our 
Articles) "depart from grace given, and fall 
into sin ; and by the grace of God (he may) 
arise again and amend his life." There is no 
man that Hveth and sinneth not ; and even " the 
good man falleth sometimes seven times a day." 
These occasional lapses call for regrets and hu- 
miliation. Acts of sin require acts of contri- 
tion, and penitence must of necessity be a grace 
in frequent exercise, until death shall terminate 
the warfare of sin ; and this modified and par- 
tial repentance, demanded by partial returns to 
sin, is as essential to the safety and the comfort 
of the renewed, as is conversion to the unrenew- 
ed ; and he, perhaps, comes nearest to the mark 
of Christian requirement who best preserves 
the tenderness and sensitiveness of conscience, 
and who is deeply pained and deeply humbled 
even by the daily little infirmities which mar 
the beauty of his Christian holiness. These in- 
firmities will give even to him some share in 
the exercises of the broken and contrite heart ; 
and as he " goes mourning by reason of his 
sin," and " walking humbly with his God," there 



214 THE BROKEN AND CONTRITE HEART. 

will be comfort in the promise that this broken 
and contrite heart God will not despise. 

The evidences of repentance scarcely require 
to be stated. They are furnished by " bringing 
forth the fruits meet for repentance." • Being 
wholly practical in their nature, they can nev- 
er be given in the case of what is usually term- 
ed a deathbed repentance ; and it is the neces- 
sary want of them which attaches to such re- 
pentance so much of uncertainty and painful- 
ness, such conflicting emotions of hope and fear. 
The new heart and the new life must attest that 
the heart has been broken to repentance. Ha- 
tred and abandonment of sin are not to be mis- 
construed, and to all, therefore, whose penitence 
has been genuine, we can say, in the expressive 
and eloquent language of the apostle, " For be- 
hold this self-same thing, that ye sorrowed af- 
ter a godly sort, what carefulness it wrought 
in you, yea, what clearing of yourselves, yea, 
what indignation, yea, what fear, yea, what ve- 
hement desire, yea, what zeal, yea, what re- 
venge !" 



THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 215 



CHAPTER V. 

THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 

" He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their 
wounds." 

" He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted — to appoint 
to them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ash- 
es, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the 
spirit of heaviness." 

" Be of good cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee." 

The God of wisdom and of mercy has ad- 
mirably tempered together the elements of the 
moral and natural world. The balance of 
power, the balance of " good and evil," has 
been nicely preserved. He has set " one thing 
also against the other ;" and they only have 
correct apprehensions either of his dealings 
or of om' state, who follow those dealings 
throughout to their ultimate issue, and who 
view that state in all its stages of discipline. 
Sinful and depraved as we were by nature, spir- 
itual sorrow, even to the very breaking of the 
heart, was necessary to our moral renovation. 
It was a painful and a bitter remedy, which 
he who knew our frame, and understood well 
our malady and its danger, knew to be neces- 
sary to our recovery to spiritual health. Hard 
thoughts, both of the providence and the grace 
of God, might naturally arise, did we view the 
act of contrition, in its painfulness and misery, 



216 THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 

without reference to its alleviations and its 
consequents. The Most High might be deem- 
ed a stern Father and " a hard Master," in per- 
mitting his earthly children to sorrow thus 
deeply, even though it were " after a godly 
sort," especially if he permitted us to sorrow 
" as those without hope," and to go mourning 
to our graves. But this is not so. He calls 
and causes us spiritually to sorrow and to suf- 
fer, "not for his pleasure, but for our profit, 
that we may be made partakers of his holi- 
ness." And while the ultimate benefit of the 
discipline is ours, all the alleviations of which 
it is susceptible are from him, and as soon as 
the effect is produced, by him it is brought to 
a close. For purposes of infinite mercy, for the 
acceptance and salvation of our souls, he 
causes the heart to become broken and con- 
trite ; but he leaves it not in its dismember- 
ment and anguish. With an especial reference 
to its condition, he hath issued a commission to 
One, to " bind up this broken heart." He has 
provided an Almighty Physician, infinite in 
wisdom, consummate in skill, and unrestricted 
in power. Let us, then, alike for the just ap- 
preciation of his character, and the encourage- 
ment of our own hopes, follow him in his works 
of mercy, as " he goes about doing good," and 
see with how firm and yet gentle a ligature he 
binds up the broken in heart, and how sooth- 
ingly he pours into them the oil of consolation. 
It is perfectly evident that this act of signal 



THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 217 

mercy is a Divine act. Men were confessed- 
ly inadequate to its performance. They may 
be employed as the subordinate agents in the 
minor processes of the accompKshment, but 
" the excellency of the power is of God," not 
of man ; and when men are employed instru- 
mentally, they are but as " the earthen vessels" 
which bftar the Gospel treasure of consolation. 
The treasure itself is from heaven. 

Again and again has the trial been made, by 
earthly men and earthly means, to bind up the 
broken in heart. The spiritual mourner has 
been earnestly dissuaded from going to God 
and the Saviour, with the assurance that He 
and his Gospel, having at the first caused, 
would now aggravate his misery, would tear 
open and inflame, rather than heal the wounds 
of the spirit. Without reference to God and 
to eternal things, the balm of human sympathy 
has been applied, the lethean opiate of worldly 
unconcern has been administered. Art has ex- 
hausted its ingenuity, and pleasure has tried all 
its blandishments. There has been the shift- 
ing scenery of mimic life, and the dance with 
its giddy mazes, and " the tabret, and the viol, 
and the harp, and the wine, have been in their 
feasts." But the mourner has still been des- 
olate within. " The charmer" has not been 
heard, or heard in vain, though he charmed 
" never so wisely." The soul has turned in 
loathing and disgust from this trifling with its 
misery. It has felt that the amusements of a 
T 



'218 THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 

vain and trifling world were an insult to its 
dignity, and a mockery of its sacred griefs. It 
has been ready to say, with the wise man of 
Israel, " As vinegar upon nitre, so is he that 
singeth songs to a heavy heart ;" or with the 
mourning captive by the waters of Babylon, 
" They required of me a song and mirth in my 
heaviness." Philosophy, too, has tried her skill. 
Professing to know the whole economy of 
mind and spirit, she has deemed herself com- 
petent to reheve all the wants, and heal all the 
wounds of mind and spirit. But her trust and 
her boast have been vain. In the moment of 
agony, all the ligatures which she has bound 
around the ruptured spirit have been snapped 
as easily as fragile withes in a giant's hand, and 
the wound has bled afresh, and no styptic 
known to her art, or the art of man, could 
stanch the flow. That, however, which was 
impossible with men, was possible with God. 
Where human agency has failed, his becomes 
conspicuous : he condescends himself to " heal 
those who are broken in heart, and to give 
medicine to heal their sickness." In this pas- 
sage it would seem as though the Father were 
the agent in this work of compassion. Again, 
the Son, by the voice of the prophet, speaks of 
it as delegated to Him : " He hath sent me to 
bind up the broken-hearted ;" while it would 
again seem to come specially within the prov- 
ince of the Spirit, who is emphatically the 
Comforter, and to whom it anpertains, not 



THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP, 219 

merely " to convince of sin," but to give " ever- 
lasting consolation and a good hope through 
grace." It may justly, therefore, be regarded 
as the v^ork of the triune God, effected through 
the mission and death of the Son, and the spe- 
cial agency of the Holy Spirit, to the good 
pleasure of the Father. 

How it is effected, is both an important and 
an interesting inquiry. Evidently it is not by 
any sudden and arbitrary act of Omnipotence. 
The whole analogy of Divine influence asserts 
the contrary. It is rather in compliance with 
the previous prayer of the sufferer, and through 
the instrumentality of simple means used in 
faith, which had been devised and prescribed 
by the Almighty Physician. I cannot but con- 
sider the whole course of the Saviour's merci- 
ful and curative administration to the bodies 
and the souls of men, during his earthly min- 
istry, not only as the narrative of undoubted 
facts, but of undoubted facts which were meant 
to illustrate the usual economy of his grace to 
all the " weary and heavy laden," all the bro- 
ken-hearted of the earth in all ages. 

When he ministered on earth to the dis- 
eased in body or in mind, they were either 
brought, or came unto him in faith ; and this 
faith it was which saved them : and even it 
saved them through the influence of means ; 
means simple in themselves, but mighty through 
the powder of God. As, under the Old Testa- 
ment dispensation, the proud Syrian was re- 



220 THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 

quired to "go wash in Jordan seven times, 
that his leprosy might depart, and his flesh 
come unto him again, as the flesh of a Kttle 
child," even so, in the Saviour's day, "the 
bhnded eyes" were to be anointed w^ith the 
clay, that they might see, and the " withered 
hand" was to be stretched out, that it might be 
restored. And so, in the case now under con- 
sideration, the broken heart, in its very dis- 
memberment and agony, must perform an act 
of faith ; and looking unto him who is mighty 
to heal, must exclaim, " Lord, if thou wilt, thou 
canst make me whole." 

The hand that binds up is, then. Divine ; but 
the cords are the cords of earth, and " the 
bands as it were the bands of a man." Things 
which before were lightly esteemed, seem to 
have been visited, as by an angel, who " troub- 
led" only to bless, to have an unction from the 
Holy One, an infusion of celestial grace. The 
consolation that assuages grief comes through 
" the foolishness of preaching." The written 
Word, that " dead letter" to the natural mind 
and unmortified heart, seems full of life, and 
conveys a new life, because a new hope, to this 
broken spirit. Its promises, " yea, and amen 
in Christ Jesus the Lord," speak peace, sweetly, 
yet authoritatively, to the bosom that lately 
was "like the troubled sea when it cannot 
rest." Spiritual influence, derided as the cant 
of the hypocrite, the phantasy of enthusiasm, 
approves itself as a blessed reality ; and, un- 



THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 221 

seen of mortal eyes, works its works of mercy 
in secret. By it, most of all, are the broken 
and severed parts reunited, and the wounds 
within healed, and the whole soul consecrated 
unto God, and made to rejoice in his service ; 
and " the oil of joy given for mourning, and 
the garments of praise for the spirit of heavi- 
ness." Ordinances become something more 
than mere formalities, idle ceremonials. They 
become the seals dJuA pledges of Divine mercy, 
and of our forgiveness. In prayer^ public and 
private, how is the lately agonized soul lifted 
up above its sorrows and its sins, towards the 
purity, the peace, the blessedness of heaven ! 
And how does this saintly exercise seem to 
place before us that " ladder whose foot is on 
earth, and whose top reacheth to the heav- 
ens," so that the angels of God, ascending and 
descending thereon, may bear up our petitions, 
and return to us " with healing in their wings !" 
And in the Eucharist — but of that I will not 
speak ; it is rather the exalted privilege, the 
peculiar thank-offering of him whom God has 
already visited in mercy, whose " broken heart" 
the Saviour has already " bound up," who has 
already found "joy and peace in believing," 
than one of the means by which it is sought. 
He goes to the altar of God, " of God his ex- 
ceeding joy," not to seek for rest and healing 
to his spirit, but to thank the God of his salva- 
tion that " He hath done all things well," say- 
ing in his rejoicing heart, " What shall I ren- 
T 2 



222 THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 

der unto the Lord for all his benefits ? I will 
take the cup of salvation, and call upon the 
name of the Lord." And to him, thus coming, 
the ordinance seems the solemn sealing of the 
covenant of mercy which had been already es- 
tablished. It adds the last drop to that cup of 
spiritual joy, which is already full to running 
over. 

" The broken heart is bound up," then, not by 
any single and marked act of Divine interpo- 
sition, but through the medium of appointed 
agencies, by a blessing upon the ordinary 
means of grace, and the gentle breathings of 
the Spirit, the Comforter. It is generally a 
gradual, not an instantaneous process. The 
work of spiritual healing goes slowly on ; and 
even when it is completed, the soul usually has 
her wounds and her misery, " the wormwood 
and the gall" of her contrition long in remem- 
brance, and, therefore, is humbled within us. 
We would not exclude individual exceptions ; 
but the instantaneous transition from the bitter- 
ness of the broken heart " to joy and peace," 
nay, even to transport in believing, is contrary 
to all analogy, natural and spiritual — contrary 
to general experience, and often, it is to be 
feared, a mere delusion of the imagination. 

Neither does that communication, or, rather, 
sense of pardon and acceptance which serves 
to bind up the broken-hearted, come as a new 
and special revelation to the individual soul, 
distinct from God's general revelation to our 



TPIE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 223 

fallen race. There is no private and specific 
assurance made to beam forth from the heav- 
ens, sudden as the lightning's flash, and, like the 
voice heard of Paul, addressed to the believer, 
and none beside. On the contrary, it comes 
through God's prior and all-sufficient revela- 
tion. " His promises are received as they are 
generally set forth in Holy Scripture." Faith 
appropriates them to the comfort of the indi- 
vidual heart. It reads " the record which God 
hath given of his Son," of propitiation through 
his blood to all the penitent and believing. It 
receives this as a faithful saying, w^hich is 
brought home and applied through the agency 
of God's Spirit, and all is well. 

The idea of a special assurance miracu- 
lously conveyed, independently of the written 
Word of promise, and of the general grace of 
the Spirit of promise, we beheve to be wholly 
unwarranted in Scripture,^ and fraught with 

* The writer is well aware that scriptural evidence is profess- 
edly alleged for the doctrine. It belongs not to a work like this 
to test its character and bearing. One of the most generally- 
quoted texts is Romans, viii., 16 : " The Spirit itself beareth wit- 
ness with our spirits, that we are the children of God." The in- 
terpretation of M 'Knight is here worthy of regard. " Also, the 
Spirit itself, bestowed on us in his extraordinary operations, 
bears witness, along with the filial dispositions of our own minds, 
that we are the children of God." And to show his opinion still 
more clearly, after having remarked that some wished to inter- 
pret it, " the Spirit beareth witness to our spirit, instead of with 
our spirit," he adds, " that this interpretation will make no al- 
teration in the sense, provided by the Spirit's witness we do not 
understand a particular revelation to individuals, but the com- 
mon witness which the Spirit bears by producing lihal disposi- 
tions in the hearts of the faithful." In accordance with this, it 
is remarked by the venerable Bishop White, "What the mirac- 



224 THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 

no ordinary danger to the souls of men. The 
common danger to be feared from it would be 
the substitution of inward feeling, which is 
always liable to be mistaken, and subject even 
in the best to strange and uncontrollable va- 
cillation, in the place of the testimony of facts 
and of Scripture, as a test of Christian charac- 
ter and spiritual safety ; and the reliance upon 
this uncertain fluctuating feeling would very 
differently, although in each case injuriously, 
affect two opposite classes — the presuming 
and the timid. It w^ould lead the one to in- 
creased hardihood of presumption on the mer- 
cy of God and the safety of their own state, 
not from the evidence of the new heart and 
the new life, but on the mere warrant of an 
inward persuasion of safety ; which persuasion 
originates in some supposed assurance believed 
to have been received, and which fancied as- 
surance, again, was perhaps some momentary 
ebullition of feeling — some sudden transport of 
joy — some powerful view of Christian truth 
and Christian privilege, converted by the force 
of an excited imagination into a special token 



ulous effusion of the Holy Spirit was to the infant Church, the 
authentic record of that effusion, and other evidences of Chris- 
tianity, are to believers of the present day. When there is the 
consent of the possession of Christian graces with the requisi- 
tions of the Word of God, then there is the joint evidence recog- 
nised in the passage. Any other species of assurance may be 
the result of animal sensibility.^^ — Bishop White's Lectures on 
the Catechism, diss, iii., sec. ii., to which the reader is referred 
for many valuable remarks on the forgiveness of sin, and its evi- 
dences. 



THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 225 

of acceptance from the Father of light and 
life — the whole matter in their case being a 
mere bubble which folly and vanity had in- 
flated, and the whole hope, " the hope of the 
hypocrite, which shall perish." 

Serving thus to perpetuate the self-decep- 
tion of the bold and confident, it would natu- 
rally operate as a source of poignant distress 
to many humble and penitent believers, whose 
peculiar temperament inclined them to de- 
spondence and fear. Behoving this special 
token of forgiveness to be essential to their 
safety, and aware that it has never been vouch- 
safed to them, too little under the influence of 
enthusiasm to fancy its reception, and too sin- 
cere to feign it, however justly entitled to the 
promises of God, however pointedly address- 
ed by the Word of God in the language 
of encouragement and consolation, however 
abounding in the work of the Lord, and rich 
in the graces of his Spirit, yet, through lack of 
this imagined inward testimony, they may for 
years be a prey to doubt and apprehension, 
and at last go mourning to their graves. Such 
are those " bruised reeds" which the compas- 
sionate Redeemer would not have " broken" 
— the " smoking flax" which he designed not 
" to quench" — " the weary and heavy laden," 
whom he has invited to himself for rest and 
refreshment ; but, alas ! the perverted opinions 
of men shut up to them every avenue of com- 
fort ; and the want of an evidence which is 



226 THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 

neither promised nor given causes them Hght- 
ly to esteem those other proofs of safety and 
guarantees of pardon, which would otherwise 
have appUed a heahng balm to their wounded 
spirits. 

It is not intended here to enter at length 
into the merits of this doctrine of private as- 
surance, but we would remark that it bears 
about ii prima facie evidence of inconsistency 
and error. It must either suppose the un- 
changeableness of man, or else require fre- 
quent repetition, or otherwise assert the abso- 
lute indifference of Deity to human action. If 
it supposes the believer to be unchangeable, it 
is contradicted by his own private conscious- 
ness and by common experience. If, on the 
contrary, an unfavourable change be admitted 
as possible in him, then that change must can- 
cel his bond of assurance. Made to him in a 
state of grace, it could avail him nothing in a 
state of apostacy or sin ; and even partial de- 
clensions would shake his confidence in its 
validity ; and if, on the third supposition, it 
presumes him to have lapsed, while his assu- 
rance remains firm and his title good, then, 
beyond controversy, God " discerneth not be- 
tween the righteous and the wicked, between 
him that serveth him and him that serveth 
him not" — " God justifieth the wicked," and 
man may be saved in his sins. The idea of 
this private assurance, then, necessarily in- 
volves that of final and necessary perseve- 



THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 227 

ranee, with all its kindred delusions and con- 
sequent dangers, or else, except in the rare, I 
might say the impossible, case of conscious- 
ness of absolute perfect identity of character, 
it is nothing worth without renewal. It either 
proves too much by impugning the character 
of God, or it proves too little, and avails no- 
thing to human comfort. 

It would, perhaps, be going too far to assert 
that God may not, to some favoured and much- 
tried servants, in some great and sore " fight 
of affliction," give some private assurance of 
approaching and certain salvation ; it is only 
contended that it is not the common heritage 
of his servants, and that its reception is nei- 
ther essential to personal comfort, to meetness 
for Christian ordinances, nor to final salvation. 

Nor, again, does our theory presume the 
Christian to be left forever in a state of anxi- 
ety and doubt, without the possibility of arri- 
ving at a comfortable hope or trust of " accept- 
ance in the Beloved." On the contrary, hope, 
strong, abiding hope, is one of his special and 
highest privileges. " Joy and peace," not less 
than " love," are " fruits of the Spirit," heri- 
tages of the faithful. It is only contended 
(and here is the point of difference) that this 
hope or trust, which causes the penitent' be- 
liever to " go on his way rejoicing," results 
from the pr^omises of God, from his own con- 
sciousness that he is within the terms on which 
they are made, and from the ordinary soothing 



228 THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 

influence of the Spirit, but not from an express 
private revelation. 

Bat, waiving all prolonged discussion of the 
mere mode of communication, let us be con- 
tent with the cheering and comfortable fact 
that, in God's own way, and in his good time, 
the sweet sense of pardon is realized — " a rea- 
sonable, religious, and holy hope" is indulged ; 
there is lightness of spirit to him who was 
in heaviness — there is " joy unspeakable, and 
full of glory," to him who mourned for sin ; 
there is a sense of holy nearness to God in him 
who before was " afar off;" there is a fihal 
spirit of confiding love to him who had " suf- 
fered God's terrors with a distracted mind ;" 
and when this spirit of adoption comes in its 
strength, and with its " perfect love casteth 
out fear," then can the penitent exclaim, in 
the fresh flow of his gratitude and joy, " Abba, 
Father ;" for he feels that God is indeed his 
Father, his reconciled Father, and that he is 
one of the sons of God ; and " if a son, then 
an heir, an heir of God, and a joint heir with 
Christ." 

And now, what feelings accompany or fol- 
low this experience of healing? Those of 
deep and reverential joy, rather than of high, 
giddy, and mad excitement. The joy of the 
heart is indeed too deep and too sacred to have 
its expressions loud. It is rather disposed to 
say to itself, and to all its hveher emotions, "Be 
still, and know that it is God." The sorrow 



THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 229 

and humiliation through which it has passed, 
the very death from which it has been raised, 
throw a chasteness over its gladness, and cause 
it " to rejoice with trembling." He who " has 
been saved so as by fire" — he who has esca- 
ped some sudden and imminent peril, he knows 
not how — he who, from the languishment of 
a painful wound, or the bed of wasting dis- 
ease and of anticipated death, has been re- 
stored to soundness and hfe : all these, if the 
mind and the heart have been duly exercised, 
feel more than they can express, and express 
what they can, not in noisy and extravagant 
professions, but in solemn words that come from 
the heart, and in acts that speak more than 
words. Thus should it be with the spiritu- 
ally healed, the spiritually saved. Some, in- 
deed, imagine themselves compelled, irresistibly 
prompted to louder and less sober demonstra- 
tions of their joy. It would be uncharitable to 
question the sincerity of their conviction, and 
cruel, even were it possible, to restrict the 
mode of its manifestation. Be all left to their 
conscience and their feelings in the matter ; the 
writer only asks for himself the liberty to in- 
dulge and to record his strong conviction, that 
the feelings which most naturally possess, and 
which best become him whose heart has been 
newly " bound up" by the hand of mercy, are 
those which would revolt from the "noise of 
the multitude" and the shout of triumph, and 
U 



230 THE BROKEN HEART BOUND UP. 

which would prompt him to muse in silence, or 
to praise with solemn awe. 

Most affecting is the call, my readers, which 
is given by this binding up of the broken heart, 
tor its subsequent unreserved dedication to him 
by whom it was healed. The praise of the lips 
is good in its place. It is the overflowing of 
the too full heart ; but that heart itself feels that 
it is an inadequate return for unspeakable mer- 
cy. " A wounded spirit, who can bear ?" Of 
a healed spirit what shall bound the gratitude ? 
He who gives less than " the heart" which is 
bound up, less than himself, gives nothing ; and 
to that man I confidently predict a return to 
sin, a renewal of sorrow, " an end that shall be 
worse than the beginning." 

By this time, it is trusted that the reader will 
have contracted a sort of personal and friend- 
ly interest in the welfare of him whom he has 
followed through such marked and striking 
changes, and with whom he has seen God thus 
wondrously dealing. Having seen him in his 
sins, felt for him in his spiritual sorrows, rejoiced 
with him when those sorrows were soothed to 
rest, and listened to him with delight when he 
exclaimed, " The offering of a free heart will I 
give unto thee, O my God," let me ask him to 
accompany him farther, and to look upon him 
in the joy and purity of his last and best estate, 
his highest and noblest character, as " a new 
^.reature"' — ^a servant of Christ — a man of God. 



THE NEW HEART THE NEW MAN. 231 



CHAPTER VL 

THE NEW HEART THE NEW MAN. 

*' Create in me a clean heart, God ; and renew a right spirit 
within me." 

" I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will 
give you a heart of flesh." 

" That ye put off concerning the former conversation, the old 
man which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts ; and be 
renewed in the spirit of your mind, and that ye put on the new 
man, which after God is created in righteousness and true ho- 
liness." 

" If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature." 

*' In Christ Jesus, neither circumcision availeth anything, nor 
uncircumcision, but a new creature." 

These declarations cannot be explained 
away. They evidently mean something, and 
something, moreover, that is important. Their 
reference is as evident as their import is mark- 
ed. It is to the actual experience and blessed 
effects of that spiritual change, the indications 
and preparatory stages of which have already 
been exhibited. A subject more important 
could scarcely be presented to human consid- 
eration : may its intrinsic importance secure to 
it a candid perusal. 

There has been, it is to be feared, a degree 
of vagueness and studied ambiguity in the 
manner of speaking and writing on this sub- 
ject, which has tended to give equally vague 
and confused ideas. An air of mysterv has 
S2 



232 THE NEW HEART 

been needlessly thrown around it, which has 
wholly deterred some inquirers, perplexed oth- 
ers, and laid the whole subject open to the de- 
rision of the scoffer. The well-disposed have 
been led to form extravagant expectations, 
never to be realized ; the really converted have 
been prompted to doubt the sufficiency of their 
change ; while the profane have freely indul- 
ged their wit at the expense of all who profess 
to have received this essential change, or who 
even accredit its reality. All this is to be re- 
gretted ; and the interests of genuine, vital 
religion imperiously demand that the subject 
should be stripped of all known deception or 
delusion, of all extravagant description, and of 
all mystery not truly its own ; and that it 
should be treated no longer in the language of 
spiritual romance, but of plain, sober. Christian 
truth. The former may best serve to inflame 
the minds of the young and ardent, to delude 
the credulous, or to astonish the ignorant ; but 
the latter only can stand the test of fair exam- 
ination, the test of time, and the more search- 
ing test of God's Word, and of his final judg- 
ment. When we discard everything which 
does not fairly belong to the subject, and, rein- 
ing in imagination, " speak only the words of 
truth and soberness," we then take from the 
enemy and the blasphemer his most valued op- 
portunities of annoyance. We thenceforth ren- 
der the cause we are defending invulnerable to 
his attacks. His ridicule falls harmless from 



THE NEW MAN. 233 

the buckler of truth ; and facts, as they stand 
forth in the clear light of heaven, reflect upon 
all vain opposers shame and confusion of face. 

There is reality in the fact itself of a spirit- 
ual change : 

There is mysteiy in the manner in lohich it 
is effected: 

Its nature : 

Its reality is taught hy the Bible and the 
Church : 

Its experience is necessary. 

These are points of vital importance, and 
worthy of mature consideration. 

1. There is reality in the fact of this spirit- 
ual change. 

Through the power of the Gospel of Christ, 
men may become " new creatures^ Their 
moral renovation is such as to justify this 
strong figurative term. In common life, when 
one is changed from sickness to healthy or when, 
according to the phraseology of the world, he 
is reformed, we say that he is a new man. In 
these cases the world tolerates the expression, 
adopts it, and feels its force. There is no need- 
less skepticism, and no idle merriment excited. 
Yet here the term is far less founded in truth, 
far more figurative than in the Christian's case. 
He, changed from spiritual disease to spiritual 
health, and reformed not only in appearance 
and in act, but also in heart, may almost lit- 
erally be pronounced a " new creature." His 
natural frame remains the same, but his spir- 
U 2 



234 THE NEW HEART 

itual fabric has been a second time created. 
His identity remains ; but his thoughts, desires, 
purposes, feehngs, affections, habits, all are 
changed. The thing itself is a fact, supported 
by the only proper evidence of facts, expe- 
rience and testimony. That she has wrought 
this wholesome and thorough change upon 
thousands and tens of thousands, Christianity 
fearlessly asserts in the open face of the world ; 
and in proof of it, she is ready to summon the 
world as her witnesses. She throws out her 
assertion regardless of the gainsayer's cavils ; 
simply saying it is so, " my enemies themselves 
being judges." 

There is a change which the body will un- 
dergo, and which, although still future, yet, as 
made known to us in Scripture, furnishes a 
beautiful illustration of this spiritual new for- 
mation in Christ Jesus. It is the resurrection 

OF THE BODY FROM THE REPOSE OF DEATH AND 

THE GRAVE. Now that resurrectiou will make 
believers, even as to their bodies, " new crea- 
turesr There will be a change, and yet iden- 
tity will not be destroyed. Each man will 
have his own tabernacle of flesh; but how 
changed, how spiritualized, how glorified ! 
Even so with the soul, during its connexion 
with the changing body. It " dies unto sin" 
— it " rises again in newness of life." It is 
changed, yet the same. The behever is per- 
sonally himself, but spiritually he is a new 
creature ; and his second, new, spiritual na- 



THE NEW MAN. 235 

ture as far exceeds in moral beauty his former 
nature, as will his resurrection body exceed 
in glory that body which he is now bearing to 
" corruption and the worm." 

This, however, is an analogy, drawn from 
distant and yet undeveloped, though still glo- 
rious realities. God has revealed the fact 
that this body, " sown in weakness, shall be 
raised in power ; sown in dishonour, shall be 
raised in glory f that " this corruptible must 
put on incorruption, and this mortal immortal- 
ity." Faith may receive, and imagination 
may faintly sketch the promised transforma- 
tion ; but our eyes have not beheld it, and 
therefore it will not stand out in such boldness 
of relief and vividness of colouring as to ena- 
ble us to transfer and apply what we have 
beheld to the things of the inner man. Let 
us take, then, another illustration more palpa- 
ble to our senses. By what it has done for 
associated men, judge of what the Gospel can 
do for individual man. Give individuahty, 
body, spirit, life, to society; and then, when 
the personification is complete, when you have 
before you one body politic, animated by its 
own appropriate spirit, then note the change 
which the Gospel causes to pass over that 
body and that spirit ! How great, how glo- 
rious the change ! How worthy the name oi 
a new creation ! It is immaterial whether the 
example be taken from a once heathen spot, 
visited and converted by the Gospel, or from 



236 THE NEW HEART 

one of those waste places within its own em- 
pire, where all had gone to decay and desola- 
tion, but which it again revives by its life-giv- 
ing doctrines ; in either case, the illustration is 
complete. Scarcely can you recognise an- 
cient Britain, as described by its Roman visit- 
ers and conquerors, with its gallant, warlike, 
yet ferocious population, and its Druid super- 
stitions, in the fair and happy isle that now 
smiles from the bosom of the sea, looking joy- 
fully upon her fair heritage, and her favoured 
children at home, untiring in industry, unri- 
valled in the arts, distinguished in science, 
and, above all, guided by piety, and rich in 
the favour of the Lord ; or, as she casts abroad 
her eye over the wide expanse of ocean, and 
sees the sails of her commerce spreading to 
the winds of heaven ! Now, what, be it asked, 
has caused the change ? W as it science, 
hand in hand with civilization? Nay, it was 
the Gospel introducing both. Had there been 
no Christian apostle to Britain — had her only 
priests been those who wandered among her 
majestic oaks, and revered their sacred para- 
site* — had her only altars been the rude and 
bloodstained stones which idolatry had erect- 
ed, and over which idolatry presided — not 
now had she been seen in the foremost rank 
of nations, filling so large a space in the eye 
of the world, and fulfilling the important du- 

* The mistletoe. 



THE NEW MAN. 237 

ties assigned her from on high ! Her change 
from a pagan to a Christian state was at the 
commencement of her prosperity, and the hght 
and joyousness of that prosperity have increas- 
ed with the increasing diffusion of " the hght 
of the everlasting Gospel." Or, to take an- 
other example, in which the entire change has 
passed, as it were, under om' own eyes, and in 
which it may almost literally be said that 
"a nation has cast away their gods," and 
" been born" unto the Lord " in a day." What 
change can be supposed more radical, more 
entire, than that which in our own day has 
transformed the rude, degraded, barbarous 
and sensual idolaters of the Southern Pacific 
into peaceful subjects of well-ordered human 
governments, sitting securely each one " under 
his own vine and fig-tree," with "none to 
make them afraid ;" enjoying all the comforts 
and blessings of civilization ; and into faithful 
subjects of " the Prince of Peace," " the God 
of gods, and King of kings ?" Who can con- 
trast the account of their pristine state, as given 
by the enterprising Cook and other early navi- 
gators — (who, alas ! visited them from Chris- 
tian realms, and under a Christian flag, but 
not in a Christian spirit, or to leave among 
them the bland influences of the Christian Gos- 
pel, but rather to add a seemingly Christian 
sanction to pagan licentiousness) — and that 
which is now borne to us by the swelling sails 
of every Christian bark that has touched at 



238 THE NEW HEART 

their friendly " haven of ships," and which is 
so beautifully given in the simple, classic, 
Christian pages of a Stewart, and in the more 
ample details furnished by the able author of 
the " Polynesian Researches" — and not won- 
der within himself " if these things can in- 
deed be so," and be amazed at the superhu- 
man power of the Gospel over national cus- 
toms and character ? Nor is that power evin- 
ced only in the illumination and conversion of 
Pagan lands ; it is equally displayed within 
the borders of Christendom itself. Whereso- 
ever the institutions and ordinances of the Gos- 
pel fall into desuetude, and its faithful voice 
ceases to be heard, the civil community rap- 
idly sinks in the scale of social excellence, and 
relapses into little less than heathen ferocity 
and vice. It becomes truly a " waste place ^^^ 
bearing upon it every vestige of desolation 
and decay. " It is all overgrown with thorns, 
nettles have covered the face thereof, and the 
stone wall thereof is broken down." But let 
that Gospel be again introduced, its altars set 
up, its ordinances observed, and its appointed 
Sabbaths hallowed by the voice of prayer and 
praise ; there is then a new era in its local his- 
tory ; at once you perceive order arising out 
of confusion — moral beauty out of moral de- 
formity — regularity and decorum instead of 
disorder and profligacy — and, in a w^ord, there 
is life from the dead. Here, then, we have 
unquestionable examples of social or national 



THE NEW MAN. 239 

change. Through the converting influence of 
the Gospel, a whole people have a new heart 
given unto them, and display a new life. 
Their identity remains. The spot of their in- 
heritance is still contained within the same 
geographical limits ; it has the same latitude 
and longitude ; they are still living under the 
same government, perhaps, and virtually the 
same laws ; their descent is the same, their 
national name and title is the same ; but their 
national character is wholly changed ; in spirit 
and in act they are a new people. Where, 
then, is the unreasonableness of supposing that 
it should do for the parts what it has done for 
the whole ; for the individuals what it has 
wrought for the association which they form? 
Which is the greater mystery, that it should 
do good on a great scale or on a small ? to the 
many or the few ? Nay, does not its gener- 
al and national influence necessarily presup- 
pose a private and particular influence ? Can 
you suppose a new heart and a new life to a 
multitude, unless there were a spiritual change 
to the individuals who compose that multi- 
tude ? Can national conversion be conceived 
of separately from individual conversion ? 
These questions, it is presumed, carry convic- 
tion with them, and place the doctrine of pri- 
vate individual conversion, through Gospel in- 
fluence, beyond denial or dispute. 

On another ground, also, well may we ask, 
" Why it should be thought a thing incredible" 



240 THE NEW HEART 

that God should change the hearts of the chil- 
dren of men ? He is continually changing 
matter through the medium of the laws which 
he has given to the universe, and which con- 
stitute the course of nature.- We find the 
minds and dispositions of men continually un- 
dergoing change, although in a manner which 
excites no surprise, because experience has 
made us familiar with it, and because it appa- 
rently comes more in the way of nature, as a 
thing of course. The folly and sportiveness 
of the child are lost in the more manly viva- 
city of the youth, and that again sobers down 
into the ripeness and staidness of maturity, 
while that retrogrades towards the imbecility 
and the infirmities of a second childhood. 
Since the mind, then, with all its powers and 
affections, is as susceptible of change as the 
body, and equally subject to the operation of 
Deity, there is nothing peculiarly surprising, 
nay, nothing more than should be reasonably 
anticipated, in the fact of that great and abi- 
ding change, of which the Scriptures so une- 
quivocally speak ; a change from corruption 
to holiness, from darkness to light. We are 
not staggered at the idea of the profane man 
becoming reverential, or the sensualist pure, 
or the avaricious man liberal. All this is per- 
fectly possible, and if proper and sufficient 
motives are applied, perfectly natural, and 
actually attested by observation ; and if such 
change or reversion be possible in some traits 



THE NEW MAN. 241 

of character, why not m all ; if through the 
force of moral motive, characteristic vices dis- 
appear, and the opposite virtues stand conspic- 
uous in their place, may not the less marked 
evils be counteracted, and the less important 
deficiencies of character be supplied ? If one 
principle or spring of action, and, consequently, 
the action itself, m the moral machinery can 
be changed and regulated, shall we suppose 
that God cannot touch, and alter, and regulate 
the main spring which moves the whole ? If 
he can throw the healing salt into the separ- 
ate streams of action, can it be thought im- 
practicable that he should sweeten and purify 
the fountain, the well-spring itself? And if 
the influence takes effect there, is it not evi- 
dent that it must be pervading and effective 
throughout ? And does not this influence, 
when it thus lays ho]d upon the human heart, 
and, by its action there, rectifies and ennobles 
all the traits of character, produce that very 
conversion on which the Scripture insists, and 
which makes men, in deed and in truth, " new 
creatures" in Christ Jesus ? 

But in the manner in which this change is 
eflfected there is always more or less of mys- 
tery. Sometimes it is mysterious throughout. 
We can only wonder and adore, exclaniiing, 
" This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous 
in our eyes." At other times we see some of 
the links of the chain. God works by means, 
and those means, with their respective eflTects, 
X 



242 THE NEW HEART 

are open to our observation. We see them 
contributing each its proper share to the good 
work of rescuing a son or " a daughter of 
Abraham, whom Satan had bound, lo ! these 
many years" — to the saving an immortal soul, 
which had been drawing nigh to " the second 
death." We observe that " a word spoken in 
season" catches the attention on one side ; 
that the Book of God, with its open and in- 
structive page, allures on the other ; that 
Christian counsel points to the way of peace, 
and Christian example goes before them in its 
course. Yet even in these cases there is still 
something wonderful and past finding out. 
Many things are perceived to work together 
for spiritual good ; appropriate appeals made 
to reasonable and intelligent creatures, are 
seen to produce appropriate effects in further- 
ing their spiritual conversion ; but then, the 
manner in which all these means are tempered 
together, and guided and applied — the mode 
in which God, " the Father of all spirits," ad- 
dresses himself to their spirits, and disposes 
them to obedience — how, and with what spir- 
itual organs they hear his " still small voice," 
and read that writing w^hich his hand has tra- 
ced, and which no eye but theirs can behold — 
this is the mystery ; and this mystery we must 
be content to leave such, until that time when 
we shall " understand all mystery and all 
knowledge." Honestly, then, is it avowed that 
mystery belongs to the manner in which this 



THE NEW MAN. 243 

-change is produced ; as it does also to many 
of the ordinary and apparently the simplest 
operations of natm^e ; but the day has passed 
by when the mysteriousness of a fact could 
be successfully urged against its truth, or 
when the narrow limits of human comprehen- 
sion could be considered as bounding the 
range of the Divine efficiency. 

What, then, is tlte nature of this change, and 
in what does it consist ? 

It is not generally of sudden experience. 
Rarely, perhaps never, does it convert, as in a 
moment, the atrocious sinner into the thorough 
saint. The principle of the spiritual life is 
first infused ; it exists, and grows, and matures 
in its embryo state ; it is then developed or 
displayed in the new birth unto righteousness ; 
but even at that new birth the believer is but 
a babe in Christ, coming into the new and 
spiritual world in helplessness, and " weakness, 
and much trembling ;" requiring " the sincere 
milk of the Word, that he may grow thereby," 
and obliged to pass by slow degrees, and 
through the various difficulties and dangers of 
childhood and youth, to the stature of a per- 
fect man in Christ Jesus. This fact, that the 
Christian, although " born anew," and begin- 
ning to " live unto God," at a special time be- 
gins his spiritual life in weakness and imma- 
turity, takes away a part of the mystery and 
the edge of objection in the case, v\^hile it will 
be seen hereafter that this acknowledgment 



244 THE NEW HEART 

or proviso does not at all countenance that 
assertion of progressiveness which would con- 
found the change of the new heart with sanc- 
tification. 

Again : Great as is this change, it is not total, 
so as to obliterate all vestiges of the former 
character. It does not take away either the hu- 
man affections or the human infirmities of its 
subject. He is not converted from " a sinful 
man" into a faultless angel of God. Weakness 
and sin still cleave to him, and will continue to 
cleave to him while he is in the flesh. The ori- 
ginal defects and constitutional propensities of 
the man will be seen through the superadded 
glory of the Christian. Occasionally, indeed, al- 
though rarely, through the " rich supply of the 
spirit of grace," and through much watchfulness 
and prayer on the part of the believer, as well 
as much diligence in the rectification and new 
formation of habit, the most rooted defects of 
the natural man will be extirpated, and the op- 
posite graces implanted in their stead: more usu- 
ally, however, the cast of character in the new 
man bears some resemblance to that of " the 
old man ;" the temperament remains the same ; 
the constitutional tendencies exist, and ever and 
anon develop themselves, although grace gives 
strength to resist those which are evil, and sanc- 
tifies and directs aright those which are excel- 
lent. Native defects of temper and disposition 
will occasion the renewed man many struggles, 
many tears, and, possibly, some discomfitures ; 



THE NEW MAN. 245 

while native energies, consecrated unto God, 
will give nerve and vigour to spiritual action, 
and make that action effective for God. The 
meek and loving John will be the meekest, and 
most loving, and most dovehke of disciples, de- 
lighting to " lean upon" his Lord's breast, and 
speaking chiefly of the surpassing love of God 
to man, and of man to his brother man. The 
zealous and fiery Peter carries his warmth 
and intrepidity with him through his Christian 
life, until they lead him to the martyr's death. 
The ardent, enthusiastic, and indefatigable Paul 
gives his heart, his labours, and his life to the 
Gospel, as freely and as devotedly as he once 
did to the law; and he who, in zeal for the 
traditions of the fathers, outstripped all his fel- 
lows, was " in labours more abundant" than all, 
when he became the apostle of Christ and the 
messenger of the Churches ; and thus will it 
ever be in ordinary cases with the humbler sub- 
jects of the grace of God. Changed as they are, 
they still show what they were. 

The change, then, by which we become 
" new creatures," consists not in the total abo- 
lition of sin, for that is impracticable while we 
dwell in a sinful world, and must struggle with 
the indwelling sin of our own heart, " the law 
of the members that wars against the law of 
the mind." It consists not in never feeling the 
incitement to evil, for then would probation be 
at an end, and faith would want its proper tests 
and trials ; but it consists in the thorough ha- 
X 2 



246 THE NEW HEART 

tred, the steady resistance, and the gradual 
conquest of sin ; and in the implanted love and 
willing service of a once neglected God, a once 
contemned Saviour, a once spurned Spirit. 
" The flesh" may still be " weak," but in this is 
the change ; that the spirit is now willing to 
serve the God of its salvation ; that " the de- 
sire of the soul is to him" and to his cause. 
The principle of action is a new principle, and 
the course of action is changed. The natural 
heart, which w^as " enmity against God," is suc- 
ceeded by the new^ heart, w^hich loves him su- 
premely with a filial affection, and which serves 
him " gladly with a w^illing mind." Enough of 
corruption and perverseness still remains for 
the Christian to lament, for God to forgive, and 
for grace to change ; but in this is his joy and 
his comfort, that he is in Christ, and not out of 
him, " walking not according to the flesh, but 
according to the Spirit," and, therefore, " not 
under condemnation." 

It will be seen, then, that in this change, 
w^hen soberly presented according to truth and 
fact, there is nothing to outrage probability, to 
provoke ridicule, to encourage undue compla- 
cency in its subjects, or extravagant expecta- 
tions in others. " The new man" feels in him- 
self too surely the workings of corruption to 
dream of sinless perfection ; and others, aware 
that, changed though he be, he still is man, 
should not expect it from him. 

Yet the change is such as to excite his live- 



THE NEW MAN. 247 

ly joy, his fervent gratitude to him who hath 
called him with a holy calling. The world 
may misrepresent, the ungodly may sneer, but 
in his own heart the springs of joy are opened, 
pouring out an unfailing stream of refreshment, 
and none can dry them up. Feeling that 
he has, " through Christ strengthening him," 
achieved a partial victory over sin, and look- 
ing for its more complete subjugation, he ex- 
claims with joy, " Thanks be to God, who giv- 
eth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus 
Christ !" 

Such is the change of which the Scriptures 
speak v^ith frequency and plainness, and which 
they describe under so many varied and stri- 
king images, that we are left to wonder at their 
richness and copiousness of illustration. To 
those who are familiar with their language, 
and w^ho have imbibed their spirit, as well as 
experienced the change they describe, it must 
be matter of astonishment that any who pro- 
fess to receive them, however worldly in spir- 
it or lax in doctrine, should treat the subject 
of conversion or renovation as a fabulous mys- 
tery or an idle fancy. Yet such is the fact. 
The bare mention of it seems to excite the 
spleen and malice of the carnal heart ; while 
some, too indifferent even to be moved to an- 
ger on the subject, content themselves with the 
contemptuous expression, " What will these 
babblers say ?" " Do they not speak parables ?" 
And lest " a world lying in wickedness," and, 



248 THE NEW HEART 

consequently, in special need of renovation, 
might perchance receive God's testimony, the 
learning and ingenuity of philosophical Chris- 
tians have put forth their most laboured, al- 
though not their most successful efforts, either 
to expunge this testimony from the charter of 
our faith, or to divest it of all its point and 
value. The process of reduction and abridg- 
ment has been fully and daringly tried by the 
disciples of this school. Their rage for sim- 
plifying has penetrated and dissipated all mys- 
tery, has rudely assailed all miracle, has whol- 
ly proscribed some of the most sacred verities 
of our holy faith, and has left us abundant rea- 
son to wonder that our blessed Lord and his 
evangelists and apostles should have taken so 
much time, and space, and pains to communi- 
cate the few elementary and really very unim- 
portant truths which, in their wisdom, they 
have found to constitute the pith or marrow of 
the Gospel. A doctrine so mysterious, so truly 
spiritual and evangelical, as that of the trans- 
formation of the believer in heart and life by 
the power of the Gospel, could scarcely be ex- 
pected to escape with impunity. It has, there- 
fore, been discarded without ceremony, and 
disavowed without shame ; and the Scripture 
itself has been brought in to bear evidence to 
its own pompousness of phraseology, by show- 
ing that the change which it has so eloquently 
and so variously described was, indeed, scarce- 
ly a change at all, and could be resolved into 



THE NEW MAN. 249 

the mere reception and acknowledgment of 
one proposition. For this purpose, a single as- 
sertion of the venerable and inspired St. John 
has been greedily seized upon, and, although 
elsewhere explained and enlarged by himself, 
has still been considered as a just and sufficient 
epitome of Scripture on the subject. The as- 
sertion is, " Whosoever confesseth that Jesus is 
the Christ, is born of God." This is consider- 
ed as a beautiful specimen of scriptural sim- 
plicity ; as a very concise, and yet a very in- 
telligible definition of the new birth, w^hich, 
mystical as some consider it, is here resolved 
into the commonplace matter, of belief in the 
Messiahship of Jesus, Let us suffer the apostle, 
however, to explain his own proposition, and 
we shall find that he is not quite so all-embra- 
cing in his creed as he is supposed. Firsts 
however, let this be supposed to be his actual 
meaning, and then let the test thus furnished 
be apphed. 

All "who confess that Jesus is the Christ, 
the Messiah, are born of God." The new birth, 
then, is a thing of mind exclusively, and not of 
the heart ; it consists in the mental reception 
of a speculative proposition. This is contrary 
to the idea of the psalmist, who said, " Create 
in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right 
spirit within me ;" contrary to the whole tenour 
of Scripture, which speaks of a new heart, a 
change in the affections. As a doctrinal test, 
how vague would it be ! taking in believers 



250 THE NEW HEART 

and unbelievers, of all different grades of be- 
lief and unbelief, the orthodox and heterodox, 
provided they only receive the fundamental 
truth that Jesus was the promised Messiah. 

Try it now^ as a practical or moral test ! 
whom, O whom, of all the ungodly, who were 
merely nominally Christian, would it exclude ? 
The envious, the wrathful, the covetous, the 
unjust, the adulterer, the false swearer ? No ; 
all these born and educated in a Christian land 
believe, or think and profess that they believe, 
" that Jesus is the Christ !" These,' then, " are 
born of God !" In other words, the new birth 
is not a new birth unto righteousness, but en- 
tirely compatible wdth marked ungodliness. 
Surely it is an insult alike to the reason and 
piety of men, and to the character of God, to 
pronounce very reprobates to be "born of him,'^ 
simply because the conviction has been forced 
upon their minds by a power of evidence not 
to be resisted, that Jesus is the true Messiah ! 
While he was yet upon earth, demons, coerced 
against their will, pronounced him such ; but 
they were demons still ; such the devils now 
believe him to be, and, " beheving, tremble ;" 
are they^ therefore, born of him ? 

Absurdity, then, would attend the supposition 
that this one verse was a perfect test or full de- 
scription of being born again ! 

Let us now compare the apostle with him- 
self. 

He has here furnished us with one test of the 



_i 



THE NEW MAN. 251 

new birth. It is the belief of the Messlahship 
of Jesus of Nazareth ; that is, none could be 
" born of God" who denied the proposition. 
But he has given us other collateral marks of 
discovery. In the second chapter we are told, 
that " whosoever is born of God, sinneth not ;" 
that is, sinneth not wilfully and habitually. 
The new heart must be manifested by the new 
life, by walking in all the commandments and 
ordinances of the Lord blameless. This is to 
be "born of God." 

Again : In the fourth chapter of this same 
epistle, the apostle gives us a new mark of 
Christian character, of the new birth: "Be- 
loved, let us love one another ; for love is of 
God ; and every one that loveth is born of God^ 
If the proposition so much rehed on, that " who- 
soever believeth that Jesus is the Messiah, is 
born of God," is to be taken per se, as full suf- 
ficient by itself, then why not this? for the 
forms of expression are absolutely similar : 
" Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ, 
is born of God : v/hosoever loveth, is born of 
God." If either of these is a perfect test or 
proof by itself, then we have two entirely dif- 
ferent tests of the same state or character. 
Which shall we adopt ? If both are necessary, 
then there is proof direct that the mere belief 
of the Messiahship of Jesus does not constitute 
the new birth. Shall we reject this, and con- 
sider the love of the brethren as the test ? Oh ! 
in how many naturally amiable, but still un- 



252 THE NEW HEART 

sanctified hearts, will it be found to reign tri- 
umphant ? How many tender-hearted and be- 
neficent skeptics, how many amiable but un- 
christian moralists of the world, are living in 
the exercise of philanthropic benevolence ? 
Are all these horn of God? Surely not, be- 
cause many of them confess not that " Jesus is 
the Christ." 

Even here the apostle does not stop. In the 
fifth chapter we have another criterion, differ- 
ent from that which has been so much lauded 
for its simplicity : " Whosoever is born of God, 
overcometh the world." 

Here, then, are not less than/oz^r very mark- 
ed criterions of the new birth. Let them be 
placed in juxtaposition, and named in order. 

" He that is born of God sinneth not." 

" Every one that loveth is born of God." 

" Whosoever confesseth that Jesus is the 
Christ, is born of God." 

"Whatsoever is born of God overcometh 
the world." 

Mark, then, the necessary and perfectly lo- 
gical inferences that must be drawn from the 
apostle's copiousness of illustration or descrip- 
tion. It will not be said that his several ex- 
pressions are synonymous and interchangea- 
ble ; for surely ceasing from sin is not loving 
our brother, nor does that love include belief 
in the Messiah ; nor, again, is that belief, in it- 
self, the conquest over the world. If, then, these 
expressions are not synonymous or identical. 



THE NEW MAN. 258 

will it be asserted that any one of them is suf- 
ficient ? Then are the rest superfluous ; but 
superfluity may not be charged upon any part 
of an inspired record : and if not superfluous, 
then, instead of being born again, made true 
and renewed believers by the single confession 
of Christ's proper official character, we have 
i^ as the clear sense of the apostle, that this 
can only be effected by " a faith which work- 
eth by love, purifying the heart, and reform- 
ing the life." He was evidently no latitudina- 
rian in creed ; and it must be a Christian in- 
deed who can be measured by his standard, 
weighed in the scales of his judgment. Being 
born of God, in his vocabulary, means some- 
thing more than a mere assent of the mind or 
confession of the lips. It is " a death unto sin, 
and a new birth unto righteousness ;" and, in 
contending for a radical, moral, and spiritual 
change, we need no stronger words, no more 
vivid descriptions, than he has furnished. His 
language, then, is in full accordance with that 
which is generally addressed to us by the voice 
of inspiration. He utters that only which is 
heard from the oracles- of God, both in plain 
direct assertion, and under varied, but always 
significant and accordant imagery. The se- 
lection and employment of that imagery, by 
those " who spake as they were moved by the 
Holy Ghost," decides the point as to " the mind 
of the Spirit." When we examine that image- 
ry, we are almost compelled to admit the doc- 



^254 THE NEW HEART 

trine of spiritual conversion as one of the lead- 
ing doctrines of the book of God. It is repre- 
sented as " the crucifying of the flesh, with its 
affections and lusts" — the " putting off* the old 
man" — the " destroying of the body of sin" — 
the " being planted together in the likeness of 
Christ's death and also of his resurrection" — 
the " being buried with him by baptism unto 
death, that like as he was raised from the deati 
by the glory of the Father, even so we also 
should walk in newness of Hfe" — the " renew- 
ing of the Holy Ghost" — the " circumcision of 
the heart in the Spirit, and not in the letter — 
whose praise is not of men^ hut of God^ — the 
" putting on of the new man, which, after God, 
is created in righteousness and true holiness." 
Now it is impossible to mistake the bearing 
and import of expressions like these, figurative 
though they be ! They either point out the ne- 
cessity and the importance of a spiritual change 
on the part of believers, or we must acknowl- 
edge them either intentionally or unintention- 
ally, purposely or carelessly,/rame(i to deceive. 
If we revolt from this supposition, then our 
only alternative lies in the confession that we 
must he renewed in the spirit of our minds ; 
that we must be " born again, not only of 
water, but of the Holy Spirit ;" that our change 
must be so great as to be a passing from death 
unto life — a change, constituting us " new crea- 
tures^^ — so that " old things shall have passed 
away, and that all things have become new." 



THE NEW MAN. 255 

It is erroneously imagined by some, and con- 
fidently asserted by others, that the Protestant 
Episcopal Church does not recognise the reali- 
ty of this change — does not proclaim the in- 
dispensable necessity of spiritual renovation. 
Nothing could be more ill-founded or unjust. 
I would fain correct the error where it is hon- 
estly held, and refute the slander where it is 
promulged as such. An easy vindication from 
the condemning charge is furnished by her 
doctrinal standards and her devotional formu- 
laries* — by the writings of those worthies, both 

* The frequent and pointed recognition of this spiritual 
change in the standard works of Enghsh theology, and especial- 
ly in the published sermons of the eminent divines of the English 
Church, will be acknowledged by the candid of all denomina- 
tions who are familiar with their writings, and is so commonly 
admitted as to preclude the necessity of quotations. On this 
side the Atlantic, " the like precious faith" is held and taught in 
the Church. The following testimonies, selected from unnum- 
bered others which might be adduced, will probably be consid- 
ered as decisive. It will appear from these, that this doctrine is 
not confined to a party in the Church, as is often unjustly assert- 
ed (the author recognises no party names or distinctions), but is 
common to those who are popularly, however improperly, con- 
sidered as standing on opposite sides. 

The first representative and ornament of our American epis- 
copate (Bishop Seabury, of Connecticut) thus writes : " Our 
Saviour makes a distinction between ' the children of this world' 
and the ' children of hght.' The same distinction is kept con- 
stantly in view by his apostles. The children of this world are 
remarked for their attention to the things of the world, and for 
their prudence in the management of them; the children of 
light for their attention to the things of eternity. The former 
'live after the flesh, the latter after the Spirit. The former 
keep on the old man, the latter put on the new man.' In the 
language of Scripture, the old man signifies the fallen nature of 
Adam, with its evil tempers and passions. By the new man.j or 
new creature, is meant the holy nature of Christ, which is love 
and obedience to God. This we obtain, not by the imputation 



256 THE NEW HEART 

of this and the parent Church, who now Hve 
and speak but in their works, and by the sol- 

ofwhat Christ has done for us, but by having his Spirit, and 
temper, and disposition actually produced in us by the Holy 
Spirit of God. They who, being convinced of the blessed effect 
of obeying God in all things, do manifest in their lives the same 
spirit, and temper, and disposition which appeared in Christ, 
copying the example of his holy life, are said to have put on the 
new man, which, ' after the image of God, is created in righ- 
teousness and true holiness.' They, in truth, become new crea- 
tures ; they acquire a new heart, new temper, new desires, a new 
nature; *old things are passed away, behold, all things are be- 
come new.' " — Seabary's Sermons, vol. ii., serm. xii., p. 169, 170. 

Again : " He (Christ) hath given his Holy Spirit, to be in us 
the principle of a new, holy, and heavenly life ; to do that for 
us which nature cannot do for itself" "Everything in you 
that is good is from the Spirit of God ; for by his Spirit God 
works in us. The Spirit is the beginner, the supporter, and the 
finisher of that new life of nature, which we receive through 
Christ ; which consists in a love of all goodness, and a hatred 
of everything that is evil." " The corrupt tree of Adam's fallen 
nature cannot bring forth the good fruits of the Spirit of God, 
and, consequently, cannot inherit the happiness arising from 
the fruits of the Spirit. Corrupt nature can bring forth only 
corrupt practices. Cultivate it, improve it, adorn it ; till it be 
changed and renewed by repentance and faith, in the language 
of Scripture, ' created anew in Christ Jesus,' it can bring forth 
nothing but evil lusts, and tempers, and passions; these must 
be its fruits, and the end, eternal death." — Vol. ii., serm. ix., p. 
133, 134, 137. 

The lamented and pious Dehon, in his exquisitely beautiful 
and most interesting sermons, has thus clearly set his seal to 
the doctrine : speaking of man in his natural and unrenewed 
state, he remarks, " There is a feebleness of his will, an msubor- 
dination of his passions, a prostitution and a confusion of his 
powers, and, consequently, an impurity of his nature, which un- 
lit him for the holy abode and presence of his Maker. It is the 
office of the Spirit to move upon this chaos of his condition ; to 
reduce the confusion to regularity; to dissipate the impurity and 
sublimate the affections, and into the dark mass that is ' without 
form and void,' to introduce order, and beauty, and meetness 
for the divine approbation." — Vol. ii., serm. 1., p. 64. 

" Though philosophy may teach us to be brave, disinterested, 
generous, can she teach us to be humble? Can she enable us 
to be pure ? No : * In us, that is, in our flesh, dwelleth no good 



THE NEW MAN. 257 

emn declarations which come warm from the 
hearts and the lips of those many living teach- 

thing.' The Christian finds in himself a new and wonderful 
creation. He is conscious it is something which he did not, by 
his own power alone, produce. There is divinity in it. In the 
calm hour of contemplation, he surveys the operation in his 
mind ; and wrapping himself in his mantle, like Elijah, listening 
to ' the still small voice,' perceives that it is the Spirit of God." 
— Vol. ii., serm. xlix., p. 58. 

The following testimonies from one whose labours for the 
Church can scarcely be sufficiently appreciated, and whose loss 
the Church stilJ feelingly deplores, are worthy of special regard, 
from the fact that his zealous advocacy of the theory of baptis- 
mal regeneration was often either misconceived or misrepresented 
as a denial of the necessity for a spiritual change of heart ; and 
the reader is requested to bear in mind that they occur in dis- 
courses on the subject of baptismal regeneration. '■^Regenera- 
tion is a change of our spiritual condition, a translation into a 
state in which our salvation is rendered possible ; renovation is 
that change of heart and life by which salvation is finally attained."*^ 
— Bishop Hobarfs Posthumous Works, vol. ii., p. 472. 

" ' Be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind.' * If any 
man be in Christ, he is a new creature.' ' If any man have not 
the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.' These are the declara- 
tions which impress infinite importance on the inquiry on which 
we now enter, as to the means by which this change of heart and 
life, this spiritual renovation, may be obtained, increased, and 
preserved, by which we may become new creatures in Christ Je- 

"And on this point there is a remark of fundamental impor- 
tance. This renovation, in its commencement, its progress, and 
its perfection, is the work of the Holy Spirit, exciting and aid- 
ing, but not irresistibly impelling our own powers and exertions. 
To establish the agency of the Holy Spirit in our renovation, 
and our co-operations with his blessed influences, would exceed 
the limits, and be foreign to the design, of the present inquiry. 
But the Christian who reads his Bible, and finds there declara- 
tions that ' we are saved by the renewing of the Holy Ghost,' 
that ' we are sanctified by the Holy Spirit,' that we must ' work 
out our salvation, for it is God who worketh in us both to will 
and to do,' and innumerable other declarations to the same ef- 
fect, will not hesitate humbly to receive, and gladly to cherish a 
doctrine, the necessity of which results from a sober estimate of 
his nature, and which, without destroying his free agency, en- 
dues it with celestial strength, and crowns it with immortal tri- 

Y 2 



258 THE NEW HEART 

ers who, with holy earnestness, call to new- 
ness of life. It is true, indeed, that the Church 

umphs. And the churchman will be treacherous to that Church, 
to which it is his boast that he belongs, as well as treacherous 
to his own virtue, peace, and felicity, if- he does not devoutly 
recognise the same doctrine in the articles, and in the prayers of 
the hturgy."— 76i<^., p. 496, 497. 

Again : " ' If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature.' 
Tills is an inspired declaration, supported by the whole tenour of 
the Gospel, and set forth, with the utmost strength and perspi- 
cuity, in all the formularies of our Church, and particularly in 
that baptismal office, by which we were regenerated, brought into 
a state of salvation, and made God's children by adoption and 
grace. How erroneous, then, is the opinion, which, it is to be 
feared, proves ruinous to the piety of many, that religion consists 
in the mere regulation of the exterior, and not in the transforma- 
tion of the heart ! and how vain, indeed, is the attempt to regu- 
late that exterior by the standard of moral duty, unless the 
principles and springs of action, which are seated in the heart, 
are corrected and purified ! Brand not the doctrine of the trans- 
formation of the souly of the new birth unto righteousness, as fanaticaly 
until you have consulted, I will not say Scripture, but a guide ac- 
knowledged by all — human reason.'''' — Ibid., p. 519, 520. 

The sentiments of the pious and energetic Ravenscroft, who, 
alas ! like his distinguished brother in the episcopate last quo- 
ted, can only speak from his works, are not to be mistaken. His 
own heart having been signally changed through the influence 
of Divine grace, he regarded such change as needful to every 
sinner. Still, with Bishop Hobart, he contended for the scrip- 
tural use of the term regeneration, and its exclusive application to, 
or connexion with, baptism, as the following extracts will suffi- 
ciently show. "Whatever difficulty yourself and many others 
may labour under upon this subject, proceeds altogether from 
confounding two subjects altogether distinct, viz.. Regeneration 
and Co?Lversion : both, to be sure, essential to us as sinners, but, 
in a manner, distinct from each other." Again : *' In both these 
senses, the word regeneration is used in our baptismal service — 
first, as an effect produced in bestowing spiritual grace ; second- 
ly, to denote a change of condition — that those rightly baptized 
are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the 
saints and the household of God.''^ 

" A careful examination of the office for baptism will show 
you that such is the meaning which the Church attaches to the 
word regeneration ; and if attended to as it ought to be, would 
not only prevent the confusion of mind consequent on confound- 



THE NEW MAN. 259 

avoids, and that her ministers avoid, many of 
the popular phrases used in reference to the 

ing regeneration and conversion, but restore the ordinance itself 
to that respect in the eyes of Christians, to which it is so highly- 
entitled." — Letter to Mrs. Robinson, published in his Memoir prefix- 
ed to his Works, vol. i., p. 27, 28. 

In a sermon on 1 Cor., ii., 14, he thus expresses himself: 
" But while this is, undoubtedly, the primary sense in which 
the apostle here uses the words natural man, as is evident from 
the context, for he, throughout, contrasts the natural man with 
the spiritual, or spiritually enhghtened man ; yet, as I observed in 
the outset, this is not the only sense in which the text is to be 
used and applied by us. For we may apply it to man as he now 
is, a fallen, depraved creature, savouring only the things of time 
and sense, and indisposed and averse to the entertamment of 
things spiritual and heavenly. It also denotes the unrenewed 
man, the person upon whom the grace of the Gospel has produced no 
change ; upon whom the Spirit of God hath not operated the mighty 
transformation of a new creature." — Vol. ii., serm. vi., p. 66, 67. 

The late venerable Bishop Moore, of Virginia — that " old 
man eloquent," whom all delighted to honour, and whose very 
appearance in the sacred desk, even before his lips were un- 
locked, had the force of an appeal, and powerfully seconded ev- 
ery word which they subsequently uttered — was himself a sig- 
nal example of converting grace, and a most successful instru- 
ment in the conversion of others. Early dedicated to God in 
baptism, and blessed with the teaching and training of a most 
pious and devoted mother, he, nevertheless, subsequently fell 
into a state of carelessness and religious neglect. His spiritual 
restoration is traced by his biographer, the Bishop of Rhode Isl- 
and, " to his casual opening of a Bible at the passage, ' Saul, 
Saul, why persecutest thou meV" His biographer far- 
ther remarks, "He has left no written record of his experience 
at this interesting epoch of his life, nor have we the means of 
ascertaining the precise time when he first entered into full 
communion with the body of Christ's faithful people, by a re- 
ception of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. But that a 
change did take place in his religious feelings and character ; a 
change in the views, desires, and affections of his. mind, and in 
the purposes and habits of his life ; a change so great and radi- 
cal as to be properly styled a conversion or new creation, the 
whole course of his future history leaves no room for the shad- 
ow of a doubt. The fruits of the Spirit, so clearly manifested 
in his temper and conversation, afforded the best evidence of a 
renovated heart. And the frequency and earnestness with 



260 THE NEW HEART 

subject — phrases, some of which are equivo 
cal, and others erroneous ; but which, by many, 

which he enforced the indispensable necessity of conversion, 
gave indications, sure and convincing, that the doctrine of Scrip- 
ture on this point had been confirmed by him, by. his own per- 
sonal experience." One or two examples of the pointed recog- 
nition of this change must suffice. In the sermons appended to 
the memoir of his life, already quoted, occur the following : 
*' Sin is the death of the soul : consequently, wherever habitual 
sin prevails, there is a privation of spiritual hfe, an insensibihty 
to Divine things, a deadness to any enjoyments but those of our 
carnal nature. The practice of iniquity renders the sinner ob- 
noxious to a God of holiness, and cuts him off from God, the 
fountain of life." " The conversion of a soul to God is its res- 
urrection from death to life. It begins to live when it begins to 
live to God ; to breathe after heaven and holiness ; to move to- 
wards the Almighty, and to make preparation for that eternity 
towards which we are rapidly hastening." — Serm. v., p. 373. 

** However blind, man, by nature, is to spiritual things, and 
however insensible to the value of religious reflection and evan- 
gelical truth, let him attend upon the means of grace, and the 
stated services of the Church, and he may, with propriety, ex- 
pect that, sooner or later, the Redeemer will appear to his re- 
lief, remove his bliridness, bless him with spiritual vision, give 
him a new heart, and influence him to follow Jesus in the way 
of duty."— Serm. vii., p 398. 

The bishop, indeed, like his brethren in the episcopate last 
quoted, held the doctrine of baptismal regeneration. This his 
published correspondence sufficiently attests. Nor did he scru- 
ple to assert, according to Scripture and the ancient creeds, the 
connexion between baptism and the remission of sins — to ac- 
knowledge " one baptism for the remission of sins" — but, in the 
letters which most strongly declare this, he still presents con- 
version as distinct from the regeneration of baptism, and, in re- 
gard to adults, anterior to it. Thus, he remarks, " Paul was 
converted in a miraculous manner, but you cannot, I think, 
show me where he is represented as regenerated and his shis 
washed away, prior to his baptism." Again : " Would Saul, af- 
ter his conversio7i, have been referred by Christ himself to Anani- 
as, for the performance of a mere ceremony ?" — Letter to Rev. 
Mr. H , on Baptism, Memoir, p. 205. 

In this connexion we may remark, that the bishop, in this cor- 
respondence, only forcibly expresses the scriptural and whole- 
some doctrine, that grace always accompanies Christian ordi- 
nances properly received. In the case of those baptized iu in- 



THE NEW MAN. 261 

are made very shibboleths, or tests of ortho- 
doxy. But she expresses the great fact of 

fancy, the grace or benediction received, may either be stifled or 
lost through subsequent sin, or, if retained and cherished, its 
development at an after period, by some of the various means 
and instruments of evangelic influence, may constitute genuine 
conversion, and be farther displayed in progressive sanctification. 
In the case of adult recipients of baptism, the change of heart 
precedes, or ought to precede, the act. The very wish to re- 
ceive the ordinance must be supposed to be the result of that 
change — of a newly-awakened desire to fulfil all righteousness : 
the public prof ession of faith, certainly presupposing the existence 
and the exercise of faith, and the external sacramental dedication 
to God, being only the meet expression of the inward desire and 
resolve to lead a godly and a Christian life. In this case, the 
reception of baptism is the effect of antecedent change in spirit 
and feeling, not the cause of such change ; and conversion hav- 
ing gone before, the accompanying grace of baptism will be dis- 
played in the daily " renewing of the Holy Ghost," the maturing 
of Christian character. 

The Church, then, conceiving all to be regenerated in bap- 
tism, because by it brought into a new state, evidently does not 
confound this regeneration with spiritual conversion. That con- 
version, as in the case of adults, may precede baptism; or, in the 
case of those baptized in infancy, maLj follow it, " after many 
days," or may not be experienced at all. 

Our next testimony is from the late venerable and venerated 
presiding bishop of our Church, whose meek, unpretending pi- 
ety, and whose apostolic simplicity of character, were as re- 
markable as were the circumstances of his death touching and 
impressive. 

*' What we ought precisely to understand by the word regen- 
eration, has been, of late years, much controverted. It is to be 
regretted that there should be even a verbal difference among 
Christians on this point ; it causes uncharitable disputation, and 
the appearance of great difference in doctrine, even where little 
or none exists. It has also caused a misunderstanding of the 
language of our liturgy. Some infer from it that we believe in 
no necessary change of heart but what is effected in baptism." 
" The Scriptures, we know, teach nothing more clearly than 
that the heart must be renewed, created again unto good works ; 
and this must, unquestionably, be the work of God's Spirit." — 
Bishop Griswold^s Discourses, serm. xiv., p. 214-217. 

" As we said, the notion prevails, and it seems to be a frequent, 
and, we have reason to fear, a fatal error of some who call them 



262 THE NEW HEART 

spiritual renovation^ and its essential impor- 
tance in the hallowed language of God^s own 

selves Christians, that if they live sober and regular hves, avoid 
scandalous vices, and discharge the common duties of life, they 
nave a good conscience tov^^ards God ; that this alone, or chiefly, 
will secure their eternal salvation. But is this that change of 
heart and newness of life which the Scriptures speak of, and the 
Saviour requires ?" " ' Marvel not that we say unto you, Ye 
must be born again.' We shall be unfaithful stewards of God's 
mysteries, if we do not teach, and insist, with all long-suffering 
and doctrine, that the most upright moralist, if he would save 
his soul, must, by prayer and searching the Scriptures, and by 
religious duties, seek an interest in the only Saviour ; he must 
obtain a new heart and a new spirit, disposed to honour God and 
love his fellow-men."— Serm. xix., p. 294, 300, 301. 

Of the living prelates and other writers of the Church, declara- 
tions the most explicit, and the most pertinent and apposite to 
our purpose, might be adduced in unlimited number. This is the 
less necessary, however, as they can still speak for themselves, 
and may be heard, as though with one heart and one mouth, 
bearing testimony to the great doctrine of a necessary change in 
all the unrenewed in the affiections of the heart, and the actions 
of the life. The following, however, are too marked and forci- 
ble to be withheld. 

" The word regeneration is applied, as are also several kin- 
dred expressions, to a certain change of state, and to a certain 
change of character. ^^ " The change of state alluded to is the 
transition from being out of the visible Church to being within 
that body. The change of character alluded to is recovery from 
the dominion and the curse of sin, to victory over sin ; and when 
combined with the change of state, or union with the Church, 
to pardon." " Let the reader be cautioned expressly against 
connecting the popular idea of regeneration, with that word, as 
applied in this essay, to baptism. No moral or converting in- 
fluences of the Spirit, no deposite, or seed, or leaven, intended 
to become active, and result in such influences, or of the same 
sanctifying nature with them, are here meant in that use of the 
word ; but only the ratifying, ascribed to the Holy Ghost, of our 
separation from the world to the visible Church, and of the 
grant to us of its privileges. All practical, converting, new cre- 
ating influences of the Spirit, and all their elements, we include 
in the change called moral regeneration." " The operation of 
the Spirit in producing this change of character is often called 
in Scripture conversion, or turning ; it is often called renovation^ 
or renewing, which word means properly, not mere refreshing, 



THE NEW MAN. 263 

Word. What more should man require ? Why 
should she " be wise above what is written ?" 

as is commonly imagined, but making anetVy or new creating. It 
is also called being born again, or regenerated." — Bishop H. U. 
Onderdonk^s Tract on Regeneration^ p. 1,2, 4. 

The whole tract, from its ingenuity, its thorough examination 
of Scripture, and its explicit avowal of the necessity of a spirit- 
ual change, is worthy of the reader's careful perusal. In ex 
pressing tliis sentiment, however, the author must not be under 
stood as acquiescing in all the views which the tract contains 
From some of these, and especially from the positions, that " this 
change, moral regeneration, is gradual and progressive ; that it 
admits of increase, decay, renewal, and repetition ; that it is not 
only the commencing point of sanctification, but includes in it 
its several stages to the highest ;"* from these, the author would 
probably be compelled to dissent, nay, has already intimated a 
diflferent, opinion, f 

The views of the learned and eloquent Bishop of Ohio on 
this subject are well known. In almost every production of 
his pen, there is a recognition of the great doctrine that " If any 
man be in Christ, he is a new creature ;" new, because, being 
justified by faith, he has passed from a state of condemnation to 
a state of acceptance, and so stands in a new relation to God ; 
and again, because "created anew in Christ Jesus, unto good 
works." The following passages are selected from his sermon 
before the General Convention of 1841, on the occasion of the 
consecration of the Rev. Alfred Lee, D.D., to the Episcopate of 
Delaware. 

" Had 1 more time, I would speak earnestly upon the promi- 
nence to be given in our ministry, at all times, to that great 
topic which St. Paul considered of such overmastering claims, 
that he desired to preach and live as if knowing nothing else 
among men — ^ Jesus Christ and him crucified.'' 

" The person and offices of Christ ; what he has done to save 
sinners ; what he is now doing at the right hand of God for all 
that come unto God by him ; the universal embrace of his atone- 
ment ; the full, free, and complete salvation provided in his 
death and intercession for the chief of sinners ; the boundless 
love which that death displays; the precious invitations and 
promises which proceed therefrom; the nature of that godly 
sorrow, that spiritual regeneration, that true conversion by 
which alone the sinner can be turned unto the Lord," &c., &c 
— Consecration Sermon, p. 13. 

* See Tract on Regeneration, p. 19. 
t See page 244 of this work. 



264 THE NEW HEART— 

Why should she " savour of the things that be 
of men, rather than of those which be of God ?" 

Again : '' Take heed to thyself, that thou be a genuine disciple 
of Christ, truly converted unto Go(i."— Page 16. 

The bishop then consecrated has given a similar testimony, in 
the address delivered by him at the Annual Commencement of 
the General Theological Seminary, in St. Peter's Church, New- 
York, on the 30th of June, 1843. He remarks, '* However 
highly we value the thorough training, the discipline of thought, 
the range of learning, the varied acquirements of a complete 
theological course, we must yet insist that there is a knowledge 
of Christ, more needful than any other, to be gained, not from 
systems and lectures, but from the Lord himself. Christ must 
be communed with by the quickened soul. The riches of his 
saving knowledge and grace must not only be heard of in the 
academy, but taught by the Holy Spirit in the inner chambers of 
the soul. From 'the abundance of the heart' must the mouth 
speak, and the pen indite, ' the excellency of the knowledge 
of Christ Jesus our Lord.' Our own ' life' must be ' hid with 
Christ in God.' When we have found in him ' rest for our 
souls,' we may hope with success to lead others to the Redeem- 
er's feet. Were our task merely to build up an outward king- 
dom, to induce men to call themselves by a particular name, 
or to unite in the rites and ordinances of Christianity, as in 
themselves a sufficient passport to heaven, we might dispense, 
indeed, with this hidden knowledge of Christ, this personal 're- 
ceiving of the Lord, and walking in him.' But inasmuch as our 
duty is to build upon the only foundation ' a spiritual house, with 
lively stones, acceptable to God ;' to win the proud, stubborn, 
worldly heart to repentance and godliness ; to call the ' dead in 
trespasses and sins' to a new and holy life ; to ' warn every man 
and teach every man in all wisdom, that we may present every 
man perfect in Christ Jesus;' we must ourselves 'have heard 
him, and have been taught by him, as the truth is in Jesus.' " 

The last authority adduced to show the certain recognition of 
this great doctrine of a spiritual change, by the Church in this 
country, is taken from a letter of a distinguished layman of the 
Estabhshed Church in Ireland, Alexander Knox, Esq., to Mr., 
now Bishop Jebb, which, from the fact and the manner of its re- 
print in this country, becomes, constructively, one of the best 
evidences of existing opinion here. The language of the author 
would, however, indicate that this great truth was not there al- 
ways presented with as much prominency and force as its im- 
portance required. "Now, the New Testament dwells on this 
(the creation of a clean heart, and the renewal of a right spirit) 



THE NEW MAN, 265 

If the quotations which are subjoined in the 
notes are impartially weighed by the reader, 

as its main object : * Make the tree good,' says Christ, ' and its 
fruit will also be good' — ' Except ye be converted, and become 
as little children, you can in no wise enter into the kingdom of 
heaven.' These expressions evidently imply that, in order to be 
Christians, persons must undergo a moral change ; that Chris- 
tianity is designed to make them something which they are not 
by nature ; and that the alteration produced in the mind, the af- 
fections, and the conduct, by a right and full acquiescence in the 
Gospel, is so radical, so striking, and so efficacious, as to war- 
rant the strongest imagery, in order to do it justice, that lan- 
guage can furnish. 'Except a man,' says our Lord, 'be born 
again, he cannot see the kingdom God.' ' If any man,' says St. 
Paul, ' be in Christ, he is a new creature : old things are passed 
away ; behold, all things are become new.' ' If ye then be risen 
with Christ, seek those things which are above : for ye are 
dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God,' ' Being justified 
by faith, we have peace with God by our Lord Jesus Christ ; 
for the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy 
Ghost, which is given unto us.' And, to quote but one passage 
more from St. Paul, 'They that are Christ's have crucified 
the flesh, with the affections and desires.' " 

Now, what, I ask, do these expressions imply ? After every 
fair allowance for figure and metaphor, do they not convey a far 
deeper and more mysterious view of Christianity than is com- 
monly adverted to? Some divines, I know, endeavour to ex- 
plain these and similar passages as if they referred rather to a rel- 
ative and extrinsic than to a real and internal change ; as if they 
meant merely proselytism from heathenism to Christianity, and 
initiation into outward church privileges. But this miserable 
mode of interpretation is flatly inconsistent with the whole ten- 
our of the New Testament. It is not heathenism, but moral 
EVIL, which is here pointed out as the grand source of human 
misery ; and the aptitude of the Gospel to evercome and ex- 
tirpate this moral evil, is what is dwelt upon as its great and 
leading excellence. These, therefore, and all similar passages, 
must be understood in a moral sense ; and when so understood, 
how deep is their import ! To suppose that there is not a strict 
appositeness in these figurative expressions, would be to accuse 
the apostles, and Christ himself, of bombastic amplification : but 
if they have been thus applied because no other ones were ad- 
equate to do justice to the subject, I say again, what a view do 
they give of Christianity ! 

And again, in summing up his views, the author remarks, 



266 THE NEW HEART 

he will perceive how unjustly the charge ol 
opposition to this blessed and wholesome doc- 
trine was preferred against some while living, 
who now " rest from their labour s,^^ and how 
entirely groundless it is when urged against 
the Church generally. It will be seen that it 
is by no means the doctrine of a sect or party 
in the Church, but of the Church itself, as a 
whole ; and that its profession, so far from be- 
ing a novelty, forced upon us by the strong 
tide of popular opinion, is, indeed, "the old 
commandment which we had," and respected 
and obeyed " from the beginning." 

To those v^ho may, perhaps, have been long 
accustomed to hear, to beheve, and t.o circu- 
late this undeserved charge, we would point- 

" These points, therefore, T take to be the great features of 
Christian preaching : 

'' 1. The danger and misery of an unrenewed, unregenerate 
state, whether it be of the more gross, or of the more decent 
kind. 

" 2. The absolute necessity of an inward change : a moral 
transformation of mind and spirit. 

" 3. The important and happy effects which take place when 
this change is really produced." 

Thus far this pious and able writer. The republication of his 
work from the Protestant Episcopal Press, especially in connex- 
ion with the warm commendation of it both to clergy and laity 
which is given in the preface by the American editors, we re- 
peat it, is an unanswerable proof of the general soundness of our 
clergy and people on this essential point. We will only add, 
that our firm conviction accords with that expressed in the pref- 
ace to this admirable tract : " that in proportion as the truths 
and influences which it recommends shall be proclaimed from 
the pulpits of our Church, and adopted in the lives of her mem- 
bers," " the comfortable Gospel of Christ, truly preached, truly 
received, and truly followed," will prevail " to the breaking 
down of the kingdom of sin, Satan, and death." 



THE NEW MAN. 267 

edly appeal. With such testimonies spread ful- 
ly before them, and with the many disclaimers 
that come indignant from the lips of the unjust- 
ly accused, sounding in their ears — we would 
put it to their moral fairness — their sense of 
justice — their regard for truth — their Christian 
principles and feelings — and ask, if they can rec- 
oncile it to any of these, if they can answer it 
to conscience and to God, to repeat and reit- 
erate a charge which has been again and again 
denied and disproved, and with the refutation 
of which they are fully acquainted. Surely he 
who repeats a refuted allegation, but withholds 
the refutation — he who propagates a slander, 
however current, knowing it to be such, is " a 
false witness against his neighbour, a slanderer 
of his brother." 

Even independently of these higher and 
Christian considerations, policy might seem to 
demand that the view of the Church should 
not be lightly misrepresented before the Chris- 
tian public. The times are ominous of evil to 
the cause of unadulterated, evangelical truth. 
It is, therefore, a question worthy of serious and 
mature consideration, whether, justice and 
charity aside, it is wise or prudent, by unwor- 
thy suspicions and ill-founded charges, to en- 
deavour to weaken an influence wholesome in 
its character, already powerful in its degree — 
and which now is, and must hereafter be, great- 
ly needed in the common warfare against open 
infidelity, lax Christianity, and popular delu- 



268 THE NEW HEART. 

sion. Each grain of just esteem unworthily 
subtracted from her is so much taken from the 
Christian scale ; and, therefore, " an injury and 
wrong" not merely to her, but to the religious 
world. For herself she has little to fear. Her 
" soundness in the faith" must be apparent. Her 
light may not be concealed. Her witness is 
abroad. She may humbly say, in the spirit 
and words of her Divine Lord, "Ask them 
which have heard me ; they know what I have 
said. I ever spake openly to the people, and 
in secret have I said nothing ;" and the sum 
of that pubhc teaching, according to the con- 
sentient evidence of all that will bear witness to 
the truth, is this : " If any man he in Christy he 
is a new creature J^ 

The Bible, then, and the Church alike insist 
upon the change of heart and affections, as 
" generally necessary to salvation." One ex- 
ception is, however, claimed by some, in regard 
to those who can scarcely, with truth, be said 
ever to have been in a state of nature — an un- 
renewed state ; but who have evidently been 
in a Christian state, if not from their birth, at 
least from their baptism in infancy, and the 
first development of reason, the commence- 
ment of voluntary and responsible action. The 
exception, even if theoretically admitted, will, 
it is presumed, be of rare practical application. 
The claims of many who are supposed to be 
included in it are doubtful indeed. Natural 
amiability, peculiar sensitiveness of feeling, and 



THE NEW MAN. 269 

delicacy of moral perception, great tenderness 
of conscience, and a general conformity to the 
law of moral obligation; these, independently 
of that divinely-infused principle which causes 
conversion, may easily be mistaken for the gen- 
uine and sufficient w^ork of the Spirit of God. 
Not greatly different from this stamp of char- 
acter seems to have been that possessed by 
"the young man who came to Jesus" to ask 
" what he should do that he might inherit eter- 
nal life," who honestly thought, and openly, but 
not boastfully declared, that he " had kept 
all the commandments from his youth up;" 
" whom Jesus, beholding, loved," and to whom 
he said, " Thou art not far from the kingdom 
of God." Still he was not, by the appointed 
initiation, within that kingdom ; and he was 
told, " Yet one thing thou lackest" — viz., that 
faith in the Son of God which would make thee 
renounce the world, follow him " through evil 
report and good report," and add the sanctify- 
ing touch of Gospel grace to all thy moral vir- 
tues. Admitting, however, that there is no 
mistake as to the supposed operations of the 
Spirit upon the minds of those who seem to have 
been believers " from their youth up ;" yea, ad- 
mitting that they had been sanctified from their 
birth, this would furnish no just reason against 
proclaiming the universal necessity of the new 
heart and the new life. By the supposition, 
they have what would be pronounced such in 
others, although apparently ever characteris- 
Z 2 



270 THE NEW HEART 

tic of themselves ; that is, they have the Chris- 
tian heart and the Christian hfe ; they are found 
in the image of Christ, and if so, they now 
" have that which by nature they could not 
have ;" and, not by nature, but " by the grace 
of God, they are what they are." They are 
then changed, even though the time of that 
change was anterior either to our recollection 
or their own. The early bestowal of grace, 
even though coeval with the first dawning of 
childish intellect, must not induce the denial of 
grace, and a transfer of its glory to fallen cor- 
rupt nature. The early experience of conver- 
sion, its unnoted progress amid childish imma- 
turity, having its external development ever 
apportioned to the development of mind, and 
shedding additional and sacred loveliness even 
over their childhood and youth, can surely 
never prove that they were always the same, 
that they neither required nor received a 
change, and that it is, consequently, wrong to 
insist upon the universal necessity of a spiritual 
change. Either they are in a state of nature or 
a state of grace. If the former, however amia- 
ble and lovely in character, they still need to 
be renewed; if the latter, that is, in a state of 
grace, then they are living monuments of grace, 
proofs of its reality and efficiency ; and it 
would be as absurd to say that we must not 
urge the universal necessity of conversion, be- 
cause they require it not, as it would be to say 
that the indispensable necessity of faith and 



THE NEW MAN. 271 

repentance must not be inculcated upon a mix- 
ed congregation, because some in that congre- 
gation may have ah^eady repented and behov- 
ed. The exhortation to renovation, in aU ca- 
ses takes hold of its proper subjects. The re- 
newed need it not ; it therefore passes by them, 
and applies itself to the unrenewed. If a Sam- 
uel was " lent unto the Lord" when a babe, 
and heard the voice of God's Spirit, and was 
made a prophet unto him, when, as a little child, 
he wore " a linen tunic," and ministered unto 
Eli in the temple — or if it was predicted of 
John before his birth, that " he should be called 
the Prophet of the Highest," because he should 
"go before him in the Spirit and the power 
of Elias" — this furnishes no argument against 
the general necessity of a special call and an 
external dedication to the prophetic or minis- 
terial work; nor may we cease to proclaim, 
that all who partake our fallen nature, and are 
born into our evil world, require to be renewed, 
because some have been so early and so unob- 
served! y renewed, that we know not when the 
process commenced, nor how it was carried 
on ; its origin and progress being lost amid the 
vague, shifting, and partially-obliterated re- 
membrances of childhood, but its effects remain- 
ing " unto this present," as proofs of its reality. 
The work in such cases is " God's work, and it is 
marvellous in our eyes ;" we must not turn its 
wonder and its glory against its Almighty Au- 
thor. " If out of the mouth of babes and suck- 



272 



THE NEW HEAUT 



lings he hath ordained praise," let it be to the 
" praise of the glory of his grace ;" he hath 
done it " to still the enemy and the avenger ;" 
let us not wrest this precociousness in grace, 
this miracle of goodness, from its legitimate 
end, or use it against the grace which it so 
magnifies ! 

None, then, are by nature so pure and amia- 
ble as to be beyond the need of spiritual renew- 
al.* Such is the sure teaching of God's bless- 

* Against this universality, it may be urged that it would ne- 
cessarily include infants ; and that, as they are confessedly in- 
capable of receiving a moral change, it would therefore militate 
ag:ainst the supposition of their salvation. The same objection 
might be urged against the doctrine of their native depravity, of 
original or birth sin ; and, therefore, if valid, would drive us from 
the scriptural ground that we are " born in sins, the children of 
wrath." The truth is, that the Gospel scheme of grace and 
mercy was meant for those who were born in sins ; and as it 
may save those who are capable of faith and repentance, on the 
conditions of faith and repentance, so has it a salvation for those 
who are incapable of them, independently of their exercise. The 
salvation of infants dying in infancy is matter of direct revela- 
tion ; or, at least, is to be fairly inferred from the declaration, 
" Of such is the kingdom of heaven," and some other kindred 
assertions. Yet it wil) not be contended that they are saved by 
right of native inherent innocence, but only through the blood of 
atonement — through the merits of Christ, availing to them, al- 
though they knew him not. A. change, then, is admitted in the 
supposed removal of original sin — in their being" washed" in " the 
blood of the Lamb." It involves no greater inconsistency to 
suppose that they are cleansed from the defilement attaching to 
our fallen nature, by such operation of the Spirit as may be 
adapted to their age and state. If " the blood of Christ can 
avail to their justification," although, " by reason of their tender 
age," they cannot believe, why may not the Spirit breathe upon 
them, and give them meetness for heaven ? the change produced 
being such only as their state required, as their development al- 
lowed, and such, moreover, as involved no active operation of 
the moral powers, no positive decision of the will. To such a 
theory we see no reasonable objection. We must either go the 



THE NEW MAN. 273 

ed Word ; and our hearts, however reluctant- 
ly, are compelled to acknowledge its correct- 
ness. Who of us would be willing, in his nat- 
ural, unchanged state, to stand before the 
throne of Him who " is of purer eyes than to 
behold iniquity ?" Who could think with com- 
placency of carrying earthly affections and 
earthly pollutions into the realms of light and 
life 1 Who would be fit for heaven in his state 
of nature ? and to whom, in that state, would 
heaven be blissful ? To speak, then, of a spir- 
itual transformation, is not to utter the language 
of folly or enthusiasm. As well might we ex- 
pect to carry these unchanged bodies, with all 
their pollutions and infirmities, into the abode 
of saints and angels, and of the mighty God, as 
to have these souls " presented faultless before 
him," in all their native vileness and corrup- 
tion ! And if there must be a change before 
we can be meet for the kingdom of heaven, be 
it remembered, it must be here experienced. It 
is written, that " as the tree falleth, so shall 
it lie ;" that " there is no work, nor device, nor 
repentance, in the grave." He who, when sur- 
prised by death, is " unholy, shall be unholy still." 
There is no alchemy in death, to transmute the 

whole length of asserting native sinlessness, or suppose that 
sinfulness can find admission in heaven, or else w^e must admit 
some theory substantially the same with that here sketched. 
Bat, at all events, the necessity of a spiritual change is a truth 
of revelation ; the salvation of infants is also revealed ; and we 
would, therefore, hold and proclaim them both, even though to 
our limited apprehension they might seem to conflict, and al- 
though we knew not how they could be made to harmonize. 



274 THE NEW HEART 

baseness and the dross of the soul into " the 
pure gold," that shall be " as a vessel unto hon- 
our, meet for the Master's use ;" nor is there to 
the soul in its intermediate, disimbodied state, 
any flame to purify, distinct from the flame of 
wrath that " is not quenched." 

Have you, then, reader, been the subject of 
this great and gracious change ? Have you 
so behoved in Christ as to have " faith account- 
ed to you for righteousness?" so that, "being 
justified by faith, you have peace with God, 
through our Lord Jesus Christ ?" Have you 
become " a new creature," through the aid of 
God's efficient grace ? The questions here ask- 
ed ought to be self-addressed by you with all 
earnestness and solemnity, and should be self- 
answered " in all godly sincerity." You can- 
not be at a loss to answer them. By " the 
fruits of the Spirit" you are to judge of the 
presence and influence of the Spirit ; and that 
Spirit himself has given you the catalogue of 
the'Se fruits.* " They that are Christ's have 
crucified the flesh, with its aflfections and lusts." 
Is it thus with you ? Have you a hatred of 
sin and a love of holiness ? Have you new 
aiid spiritualized affections ? Have you Chris- 
tian graces ? Do you live the Christian life ? 
If these questions, even in their humblest and 
most restricted import, can be affirmatively an- 

^ Galatians, v., 22, 23 : " But the fruit of the Spirit is love, 
joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, 
temperance." 



i 



THE NEW MAN. 275 

swered, then, however distant from perfection, 
you may rejoice in the conviction that you are 
" renewed in the spirit of your mind ;" but if 
not, oh, seek this earnestly, with your whole 
heart. This renewal is not a thing to be waited 
for, but to be sought, to be implored by fervent 
prayer. No man, it is true, can change his 
own heart ; but every man who perceives and 
laments his sinfulness, and feels his own impo- 
tency, can take up the language of the Psalm- 
ist, and say, " Create in me a clean heart, O 
God, and renew a right spirit within me ;" or 
again, " Turn thou me, and so shall I be turn- 
ed ; cleanse thou me, and so shall I be clean ;" 
and to such a prayer, uttered in sincerity and 
truth, there is ground to hope for " an answer 
of peace" from Him who hath said, by the Son 
of his love, " If ye, being evil, know how to 
give good gifts unto your children, how much 
more shall your heavenly Father give his Ho- 
ly Spirit to them that ask him." And let those 
who profess to have received this renewal, 
give the evidence of its reality. The claim, un- 
supported by the vouchers of the life, nay, dis- 
proved by the conduct, refutes itself, and brings 
shame and contempt to him by whom it is ad- 
vanced, and discredit upon the Gospel cause. 
Assertions, especially the assertions of our own 
lips, cannot be evidence to others. They ask 
for facts. Worth a thousand arguments is a 
changed life. This is an irrefragable proof. It 

is DEMONSTRATION. 



376 THE NEW MAN 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE NEW MAN MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 

" They go from strength to strength." 

" The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more 
and more unto the perfect day." 

*' But though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is 
renewed day by day." 

*' But we all, with open face, beholding as in a glass the glory 
of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glo- 
ry, even as hj the Spirit of the Lord." 

The believer has now fairly entered upon 
his course. As a new man, with a new heart, 
and a lightened spirit, he begins a better and a 
spiritual life. Truly can he now say, " I am 
crucified with Christ ; nevertheless I live ; yet 
not I, but Christ Hveth in me ; and the life which 
I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the 
Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself 
for me." Now commences his progressive 
sanctification ; a sanctification which, if he fall 
not from grace, will be more and more com- 
plete until it is merged in the glorification of a 
better world. It has already been briefly hint- 
ed that this sanctification was not to be con- 
founded with that one great change by which 
he became a new creature. The distinction 
between them is obvious and marked, and may 
here, perhaps, with propriety, be more fully il- 
lustrated. 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 277 

There is a loose and extended sense, in which 
Sanctification may be said to commence with 
the first convictions of sin, with the first breath- 
ings of better thought and purpose. But in 
strictness and propriety of speech, it cannot be 
predicated of man while he is yet in his sins, 
under their full guilt and dominion. He must 
have ceased from sin before he can be sancti- 
fied in holiness. The change of heart, of affec- 
tions, then, consequent on having believed from 
the heart unto righteousness or justification, is 
the beginning of the Divine life ; progressive 
sanctification is the growth and advancement 
in that life. The first marks his spiritual birth, 
his entrance into the spiritual world as " a babe 
in Christ ;" by the other, he is " nourished up," 
through successive stages, to the strength and 
" stature of a perfect man" in Christ. The 
preparatory stages of early conviction, of incip- 
ient faith, being fitly compared to '' the day 
spring from on high visiting him," and " the 
day star arising in his heart," conversion is the 
rising of the Sun of Righteousness upon his 
soul ; while the progress of that Sun towards 
its meridian causes the subsequently increas- 
ing illumination of his mind and brightening of 
his character ; making his path to be, indeed, 
" like the shining light, which shineth more and 
more unto the perfect dayp Conversion first 
places him on the Christian course, as a com- 
petitor for " the prize of the high calling of God, 
in Christ Jesus the Lord." Sanctification is 
A A 



278 THE NEW MAN 

the actual " running of the race set before him, 
with patience ;" " forgetting those things which 
are behind, and reaching forth unto those which 
are before." St. Paul was " a new creatiire^^ 
" a new man," from the period of his conversion. 
Still, he had many things to learn both doctri- 
nally and practically ; both by the ordinary 
grace, and by the extraordinary influxes of the 
Spirit ; and therefore " he counted not himself 
to have apprehended ; but he followed after, 
if so be that he might apprehend that, for which 
also he was apprehended of Christ Jesus ;" and 
it was this subsequent effort and discipline 
which made him " in labours more abundant," 
eminent in gifts and graces, " not a whit be- 
hind the chiefest apostles ;" " a burning and a 
shining light to the Church of God." A single 
manifestation on his way to Damascus, with its 
eflfects upon his mind, changed him from a fu- 
rious persecutor into an humble follower and 
zealous preacher of Christ ; and the entire 
change was brought about within a definite and 
brief period ; but his sanctification occupied 
the whole remainder of his life, and was only 
terminated when he won and wore the mar- 
tyr's crown of blood, preparatory to his recep- 
tion of the " crown of life, laid up for him in 
heaven," to which he had long aspired, and 
which he knew that " the Lord, the righteous 
Judge, himself would give him in the last day." 
This distinction between the one great influ- 
ence, or course of influences, which changes 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 279 

principle, changes the heart, and thus makes 
men " new creatures," and that gradual reno- 
v^tion of the Spirit which gives the brighten- 
ing, lustrous finish to practice, making the be- 
liever more and more " conformed to the image 
of Christ," and changing him " from glory to glo- 
ry," is, to our apprehension, important. When 
observed, it gives definiteness to ideas, and pre- 
cision to language ; while w^ithout it there is 
the ambiguity of a supposed renewal always go- 
ing on, and yet never amounting to what would 
constitute a new creature ; no change being as- 
cribed to him but such as is merely in progress ; 
and, consequently, no recognition being made 
of his spiritual existence, his distinctive charac- 
ter, as a man of God, simply because he had 
not " already fully attained, neither was already 
perfect." 

On this, however, I would not too strongly 
insist. As long as the necessity of a spiritual 
change is admitted in theory, and the change 
itself exhibited in practice, it will not be of vi- 
tal moment whether sanctijicati^n is regarded 
as growing out of this change, or as a part of 
it, and its consummation. Rather, then, let us 
trace the Christian in his brightening course to- 
wards the heavenly world, and show how tru- 
ly it may be said, that " he is changed from 
glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord." 

The analogy of all God's dealings, temporal 
and spiritual, would lead us to expect this 
grace of improvement, this gradual discipline 



280 THE NEW MAN 

for immortality. " His mercies are over all 
his works ;" and to all the creatures of his 
hand, rational or irrational, these mercies are 
displayed in fitting them for their intended 
sphere of action, and the changes of condition or 
being through which they are to pass. He gives 
even to the plants and trees of the earth the 
power of self-adaptation to a change of soil or 
climate. If the animal migrate to a colder re- 
gion, it is clothed with a warmer fur or fleece; 
if, again, it is removed to the torrid zone, its 
cumbrous covering is quickly thinned. The in- 
sect, in its earthly and reptile state, is fitted for 
that state ; a kindly torpor, a temporary or seem- 
ing death, prepares it for the endurance of its 
great and wondrous change ; and that change 
fits it for a new^ element and a higher range of 
enjoyment, giving it wings of light and beauty 
with which to sport upon the breeze. A similar 
care is exerted in regard to the animal struc- 
ture of man, and in the adaptation of his mind 
to the successive stages of childhood, youth, 
and maturity, as well as to the exigencies of 
special times and requirements. And can we 
suppose that the soul would be neglected ? that 
it would not be provided at least with the means 
of preparation for the change through which it 
is to pass in the progressive course of being? 
This would be an unreasonable supposition. 
The Gospel scheme refutes it ; the individual ef- 
fect of the Gospel in the conversion of the soul 
from sin is an additional refutation ; and as the 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 281 

effect of that conversion is increasQd meetness 
for the kingdom of heaven, the presumption 
would be, that unless prevented, by human 
perverseness and obstinacy, " He who had 
begun a good work, would perform it unto the 
day of recompense ;" and that the discipline of 
preparation in the behever would go steadily 
onward, until the hour of his departure was at 
hand, and time about to be exchanged for eter- 
nity. This presumption derives additional 
force from the consideration of the trying or- 
deal through which he will have to pass, and 
the greatness of the change to which that or- 
deal will he introductory. 

Fearful indeed, under any circumstances, is 
the encounter, and sore the conflict, with the 
King of terrors ; and much, therefore, will the 
believer need the panoply of grace, " the whole 
armour of God," and a thorough antecedent 
training of mind, spirit, and character. And 
the change of his state consequent on death 
will be as great as the passage to it is trying. 
" The heavens are high above the earth," and 
the heavenly state immeasurably more glorious 
than our best estate upon earth. So different 
are these two conditions, that we can only won- 
der that the same Being, however changed, 
should have experience of both. The body, 
fitted as it is for earth, may not, unchanged, 
enter into the heavenly world. " Flesh and 
blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God." The 
grossness of earth must be given to the earth 
A a2 



282 THE NEW MAN 

again ; corruption must have "its perfect work,'* 
in order that " this corruptible may put on in- 
corruption." The material fabric must be ut- 
terly dismembered, and the matter of which it 
is composed resolved into its elements, in or- 
der that it may be " raised again in glory." 
Now, although we have represented the great 
spiritual change, the change of the heart, as 
somewhat analogous to this, still it is evident 
that, even after its experience, the last touch 
and finish are not yet given to the Christian 
character — the " gold" is not yet " seven times 
tried," nor is it as yet burnished for the Mas- 
ter's eye and " the Master's use ;" nay, and 
however tried and brightened, how unmeet will 
it be ! After the closest possible approximation, 
how wide the difference between the saint of 
earth and "the saints in light !" To be trans- 
lated from a world of imperfection, sorrow, and 
sin to a world " wherein dwelleth righteousneiss" 
— to exchange society and the converse of sin- 
ful men for the society and the converse of the 
" spirits of the just made perfect" — of angels 
and archangels — to go to " Jesus, the Mediator 
of the new covenant, and to God, the Judge of 
all" — oh, it is a great, a mighty translation ! 
How shall the believer be prepared for it, un- 
less his path of earthly obedience and piety 
shine " more and more unto the perfect day" 
— ^unless he be, indeed, "changed from glo- 
ry to glory," and, like Moses from Nebo, or the 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 283 

Saviour from Olivet, bid adieu to the earth from 
a point that is nearest to heaven ? 

It is not here contended that this progres- 
sive brightening and maturing for heaven is al- 
ways displayed by those "who name the name 
of Christ," and whom we have reason to be- 
lieve renewed in heart. Various unfavourable 
causes are permitted to operate. Earthly im- 
pediments are in the way of Christian profi- 
ciency. The world takes too strong a hold upon 
their affections, and challenges too exclusive 
occupancy of their time. They are not what 
they should be — they are not what they might 
be. This is " their infirmity." The principle of 
Divine growth and proficiency is within them; 
they must be answerable for its non-develop- 
ment. And yet, although some are unfaithful 
to themselves, and laggards in the path of duty, 
by how many others is this gradual ripening 
conspicuously displayed ! How often does it 
attract the notice even of the worldling's eye, 
and cause Christian beholders to praise " Him 
who hath given such grace to men !" With- 
out any special reason for anticipating a speedy 
translation, the believer seems to live and act 
under a constant and realizing sense of near- 
ness to eternity. He is " in the fear of the 
Lord all the day long ;" and that holy fear, 
tempered by love, goes with him to his night- 
ly pillow. He " hath set the Lord always on 
his right hand ; therefore he is not greatly mo- 
ved" from his Christian steadfastness. He lives 



284 THE NEW MAN 

in holy expectancy, lives by watchfulness and 
prayer. " His garments are always white." 
" His loins are girded, his lamp burning, and he 
himself like unto one that waiteth for his Lord." 
Every day brings him nearer to his rest, his 
home, his God. Every day gives him a high- 
er position, a more commanding and entran- 
cing prospect, as he " ascends up towards the 
heavenly Jerusalem." He leaves far below 
the plains and the votaries of earthliness, folly, 
and sin. He breathes a purer air, he has a se- 
rener sky. He is " in the world, but not of the 
world." He walks " by faith, and not by sight." 
" His conversation (his citizenship) is in heaven, 
from whence also he looks for the Lord Jesus ;" 
yea, he is evidently " looking for, and hasting 
unto the coming of the Son of God." Like 
Enoch, even on earth " he walks with God ;" 
and in due season " he is not, for God takes him." 
This it is " to be renewed after the image of 
Christ" — to be " changed from glory to glory." 
And upon the believer, who even here has this 
blessed heavenly-mindedness, we look with ad- 
miring awe, and always with associated ideas 
of heaven. We feel at once that he is in- 
deed " but a stranger and sojourner" here, and 
that his home is above. It is impossible to dis- 
connect the view of his brightening course 
from the thought of its manifest direction and 
end. He is still the child of earth, but he is ev- 
idently a destined inheritor of the kingdom of 
heaven ; " an heir of God, and a joint heir with 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 285 

Christ ;" and as we look upon him we are inva- 
riably reminded of heaven, " of God and of the 
Lamb." I have noted those who seemed thus 
to carry about with them reflected or antici- 
pated heaven, and the idea has occurred, how 
sweet, how sacred, how heavenly, must be the 
meditations of those so thoroughly spiritual 
— how holy must be their communings with 
the unseen God, to whom they are privileged 
to enjoy such holy nearness — and what inten- 
sity of desire they must feel " to depart and 
be with Jesus !" Doubtless the workings of a 
mind thus abstracted from the world, and rais- 
ed to high and heavenly objects, must have pe- 
culiar vigour, and a range almost boundless. 
The heart whose sensibihties have thus been 
elicited and consecrated to God, must luxuri- 
ate in feeling — feeling to which the world of 
nominal and ordinary believers are strangers. . 
Mentally and spiritually, there is indeed to 
such a believer a world of his own ; and it is, 
it must be, a world of brightness and blessed- 
ness — an earthly heaven — the "outer court" 
of the celestial " Holy of Holies." 

I can still call to mind the veneration with 
which, in other days, I looked upon some who 
thus walked with God in '*' the beauty of holi- 
ness." Their memory is mingled with the ever 
fresh and unfading remembrances of childhood 
and youth. Among the forms that are wont 
to present themselves before memory's eye, 
and to renew the feelings of bygone days, is 



286 THE NEW MAN 

that of a good old man whose silvery locks 
and venerable appearance challenged my child- 
ish admiration, and to w^hom, indeed, " the hoa- 
ry head was a crown of glory."* Bearing the 
name, he seemed also to inherit somewhat of 
the spirit, of" the father of the faithful;" for 
he indeed " commanded his children, and his 
household after him, that they should serve the 
Lord." As his residence adjoined my mater- 
nal home — that happy, blessed home, to which 
my thoughts so often revert, and around which 
my fond affections still love to linger — his ap- 
pearance, his converse, and his habits, of course, 
became familiar to my observation ; and they 
all concurred to inspire me with an abiding 
and almost a superstitious reverence for practi- 
cal religion. In the independent occupation, 
and with the simple habits of a country farm- 
er, he challenged a measure of my respect 
which neither wealth nor pomp could ever ex- 
tort. It occurred even to my childish mind 
that there was upon him the clear impress of 
God* He seemed to present me with an im- 
bodied image of godliness. The idea which 
was vague and confused in the abstract, be- 
came clear and distinct in the living personi- 
fication. I saw what it was to be a Christian ; 
and I loved, I honoured the name and the char- 



* The late Abraham Duryea, of the Narrows, L. L, long an 
elder in the Dutch Reformed Church at New Utrecht, and the 
father of the Rev. Philip Duryea, D.D., of English Neighbour- 
hood, New-Jersey. 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 287 

acter. His holy consistency charmed me, I 
knew not why. He was always the same. 
His religion was "as the garment that covered 
him withal :" nay, more than this, for it was 
never laid aside* He carried it with him 
whithersoever he went, by day and by night. 
If he walked abroad over his fields, he thought 
and spoke of the goodness of Him who cloth- 
ed the fields in beauty — who " caused the grass 
to grow for the cattle, and the green herb for 
the service of man." He was truly a labori- 
ous man ; but piety made labour seem light, 
and " his sleep was sweet to him," for it was 
rest to weariness, and it was consecrated by 
prayer. Frugahty and industry, justly regard- 
ed as Christian virtues, marked the whole cir- 
cle of domestic arrangements ; and, as their 
just reward, he was blessed with competency 
while he lived, and left a patrimony to his chil- 
dren. " Not slothful in business, fervent in spir- 
it, serving the Lord," was the motto of his 
house. None were idle there ; yet all were 
cheerful and contented. Their abundant and 
substantial fare was ever blessed by the voice 
of solemn prayer ; and it might truly be said, 
that " they ate their meat in joy and singleness 
of heart, joying and praising God." " The 
morning and the evening oblation" were duly 
presented on the domestic altar, at which the 
good old patriarch himself presided, as the high- 
priest of his own family. The spirit of the 
head seemed largely to descend to all the 



288 THE NEW MAN 

members of this truly Christian family. There 
was a daughter who sat in the cheerfulness of 
utter, hopeless blindness. She had either been 
blind from her birth, or the privation had come 
to her by disease at an early age. Yet she 
was apparently contented and happy. It was 
her Father's pleasure that she should never 
look upon the fair face of creation, and there- 
fore she murmured not. There was a light to 
her in the inner chambers of the soul ; there 
shone "the true lighf — the light of hfe. In 
a moment, by the voice, and even by the foot- 
step, she recognised each friendly visitant; 
and a placid smile would steal over her fea- 
tures as she raised her head, and turned to- 
wards them as though to look upon them, and 
with her gentle voice gave them her cordial 
greeting. Methinks I can see her now, en- 
gaged in her favourite occupation of knitting 
— her fingers moving with mechanical exacti- 
tude and singular rapidity, and her sightless 
eyeballs from time to time examining the work, 
as though to test its correctness. But she is 
gone ! consumption " marked her for its own ;" 
and full of faith, long tried and purified in the 
furnace of affliction, ripe for glory, she exchan- 
ged a darksome world for the light of the cease- 
less day. A sister, not less gentle by nature, 
nor less pious through grace, followed her at 
no distant period. The same insidious malady 
slowly drank up the springs of health and hfe. 
For years she suffered. For years she may 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 289' 

be said to have " died daily." Yet she, too, 
" suffered as a Christian," and " her end was 
peace." With scarcely an exception, the spirit 
vv^hich sanctified 'the dead rests over the living; 
and the blessing lingers yet in the habitation, or, 
rather, in the family, of the just, descending to 
the children's children. But the good old fa- 
ther — let me return to him. He, too, hath " fall- 
en asleep in Jesus ;" but not until he had " tes- 
tified unto the men of his generation." I vsrould 
be an ingrate indeed could I forget with what 
tact and effect he could " speak a word in sea- 
son ;" or how a solemn word, thus " fitly spo- 
ken," came home to my own soul. I had been 
long and sorely tried by disease. My young 
life had indeed " drawn nigh to the grave." I 
had felt " the bitterness of death," and that bit- 
terness of death was newly past. I was " saved 
so as by fire." For the first time after many 
weary months of seclusion and of suffering, I 
had ventured forth with languid step, to look 
upon the unclouded sky, to taste the fresh and 
balmy air, to stand upon the verdant bank, and 
to watch the swelling sails as they expanded 
to the gentle breeze, and glided along over the 
bosom of the sparkling waters ; in a word, to 
enjoy the luxury of nature in her freshness and 
her beauty. The richness of the treat was 
felt ; gratitude was busy at my heart— and 
that heart was full. It was then that this 
venerable man, as though sent of God, drew 
near. Kindness was in his heart — tender- 

B B 



*290 THE NEW MAN 

ness beamed from his eye, and breathed in 
his tones. He pressed my hand — looked full 
in my pallid face — congratulated me on my 
resuscitation, and in few but solemn words, 
warned me, as I had already been warned of 
God, to consecrate my spared life to Him by 
whom it had been " ransomed from the pow- 
er of the grave." The warning sunk into my 
heart. I retired to my chamber to muse, 
to weep, and to pray. The incident and the 
converse of that day I must ever regard as 
among the links of that chain of mercies and 
of means which has bound me to my God and 
to his altar forever. That my hand now tra- 
ces the lines of a Christian work, and that my 
lips proclaim the words of " the everlasting 
Gospel," is partially to be ascribed to " the 
speech that distilled as the dew," to the life that 
was eloquent for God, of this humble-minded 
and aged saint, who now sleeps the sleep of 
death, waiting " the resurrection of the just." 

A similar impression was produced upon my 
youthful mind by one whose name is associa- 
ted with all that is active in benevolence or 
saintly in piety ;* and there was another , the 
friend of her heart, with whom she often " took 
sweet counsel," who shunned the eye and the 
applause of men during life, but on w^hom the 
writer never looked without being reminded 
of " Him who was meek and lowly in hearth It 
is said that the strength of earthly affection, 

* The late Mrs. Isabella Graham. 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 291 

and the habit of sweet and familiar intercourse, 
will sometimes cause a change gradually to 
pass over the features, and assimilate in coun- 
tenance those who are assimilated in taste and 
character. Certainly the love and the prac- 
tice of piety, the daily exercise of benevolent 
feelings and Christian affections, do add a pe- 
culiar grace and benignity to the aspect. It 
was so with lier.^ She was lovely even amid 
the wanings of age. A heavenly expression 
played over her placid yet speaking features, 
and her look at times was truly angelic ; while 
her soft and musical voice, with its silvery 
tones, seemed already attuned to accompany 
the golden harps of heaven, in " the song of 
the redeemed." Years have elapsed since she 
" departed to be with Christ," but her counte- 
nance, with its radiant expression, is distinctly 
before me, and my ear seems to drink in again 
the mellow sounds it loved to hear. 

These were saints indeed. Their '' witness 
was on high, their record was above." They 
were not of our external communion, but " tru- 
ly their fellowship was with the Father and his 
Son Jesus Christ,^^ and deeply had they " drank 
of his Spirit." " They rest from their labours, 
and their works do follow them." 

Within the circle of ministerial experience, 
similar examples have been noted. They have 
formed the joy of my heart, the encourage- 

* The allusion is to the late Mrs. Mary Christie, of this city. 



292 THE NEW MAN 

ment and reward of my labours. While here, 
they were " not far from the kingdom of God." 
To that kingdom they have been translated. 
They that were " ministered unto" have gone 
before him that " ministered." Oh that at hum- 
ble distance, and to an humbler seat, he " may 
be accounted worthy to follow them." But I 
may not dwell. Perchance at a future day 
the leaf that contains their portraiture may be 
cut from a pastor's sketch-book, and given to 
the pubUc view. 

Thus far I have only adverted to the ordi- 
nary ripening for eternity, under no peculiar 
circumstances. It is worthy of note, that even 
this becomes most apparent when eternity 
draws near. It would seem as though there 
must be some innate persuasion, or secret 
warning of approaching translation ; as though 
the voice must have been addressed to the be- 
liever, " Set thine house in order, for thou shalt 
die and not live :" as though, like the apostle, 
" he knew that he must shortly put off this tab- 
ernacle, even as the Lord Jesus Christ had 
shown him." Such, at least, would be a nat- 
ural inference from his heavenly-mindedness 
and increasing spirituality. As the attraction 
of gravitation causes the bodies on which it 
acts to move with a uniformly accelerated ve- 
locity, even so does the attraction which draws 
him up to heavenly things increase its power 
and the speed of his progress, as he draws 
nearer to the end of his course. " His light 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 293 

shines" most brightly " before men " just before 
it is extinguished in the darkness of death. 

Let it be remembered, however, that this 
peaceful, holy, brightening close, is the heri- 
tage of those only who have lived near unto 
God, who have " been sober and watched unto 
prayer." A secret warning of their approach- 
ing departure is rarely vouchsafed ; and in the 
very cases where we might suspect it to have 
been given, from the careful redemption of 
time, and guardianship of the soul, we should 
find, on inquiry, no consciousness or confession 
of its reception. Even to believers, "the Son 
of man may come in an hour that they think 
not of." For their admonition was recorded 
the expressive hint, " But if that servant shall 
begin to say within himself, My Lord delayeth 
his coming" — to them^ as "to «//," their Mas- 
ter says, " Watchr If grace is magnified in 
the frequent instances of progressive and steady 
brightening for heaven which occur, confi- 
dence is precluded, and proper solicitude kept 
alive by the many cases of abrupt removal, 
" in the twinkling of an eye," without a mo- 
ment's time for " the trimming of the lamp," the 
" girding of the loins," the laying hold upon the 
staff" of God, before the entrance into " the dark 
valley of the shadow of death." 

In addition to the ordinary and sanctifying 

influences of his Spirit, it has pleased God to 

make the course of nature, and the ordinary 

allotments of his providence, tributarv to this 

B B 2 



294 THE NEW MAN 

ripening of the Christian for his celestial state. 
The wanings of age, or the wanings of disease, 
are the common preparatives for death; he 
makes them also, in many cases, the efficient 
preparatives for the blessedness of heaven. 

With age we naturally and properly associ- 
ate ripeness of judgment and richness of expe- 
rience. A "right Christian judgment in all 
things," and an enlarged spiritual experience, 
are properly ascribed to the old age of the 
Christian, and to these his age itself has been 
made subservient. During its v^^aning and yet 
venerated season, we find a beautiful illustra- 
tion of the apostle's declaration : " Though our 
outward man perishes, yet the inward man is 
renewed day by day." Our allusion, now, is 
only to those in whom mind is not become a 
wreck, and whose age is the age of piety. It 
may truly be said that the outward man perish- 
es, yea, dies daily. Without any powerful 
shocks of disease, you still perceive that the 
pulse of life beats with diminished force, and 
that the springs, and all the component parts of 
the animal machinery, have lost their elastici- 
ty, and must soon, from the mere wear and 
tear of life, cease to perform their appropriate 
functions. While strength and beauty have 
departed from the body, the mind has in some 
degree shared the common decay, and sympa- 
thized with its material companion. The pro- 
gressive decay continues, for there is no coun- 
teracting principle to arrest its course. The 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 295 

limits assigned by the Creator having been 
reached, nature bears w^itness, and conclusive 
witness, too, that she cannot change or pass 
them. The stamina of hfe fail, and the w^ea- 
ry pilgrim of earth at last lays aside his staff, 
and enters his last earthly home. He *'is gath- 
ered to his fathers :" gathered to " the garner" 
of his God, even as " a shock of corn when it 
is fully ripe." Yet, amid the lingering decays 
of nature, how many are the cases in which 
"the inward man is becoming renewed day by 
day r While age has impaired every bodily 
energy, deadened the finer sensibilities, and par- 
tially blunted the acuteness of intellect, and, in 
fact, frozen up the fountains which once made 
quick and sparkling the flow of thought and 
feeling, yet how often do we find, amid all this 
dulness and torpor, that the flame of piety 
burns with increasing brilliancy, and sheds 
through the soul its most reviving warmth ! 
" The wisdom that is from above," the wisdom 
that is "unto salvation," seems to increase, 
while there is displayed less and less of "the 
wisdom of this world." Believers still in the 
bloom of youth or the strength of manhood 
are content to " sit at the feet" of these " fa- 
thers in Israel," and to learn lessons of spir- 
itual experience and of ardent piety from lips 
that tremble as they move. As the evening 
of the natural day at once enriches and mel- 
lows the colouring of the clouds of heaven, so 
does the serene and tranquil evening of a 



296 THE NEW MAN 

life of piety give richness, beauty, and mel- 
lowness to all that is interesting in Christian 
attainment or valuable in Christian charac- 
ter. It is the will of Him " who doeth all 
things well," that the sun which must set to the 
world, shall set in brightness and in glory. 
God "reveals himself" to his aged servants 
" as he doth not to the world" of those who 
are still in their freshness or their prime. He 
gives tokens for good to those who need the 
assurances of his love ; and when earth be- 
comes niggard of- its blessings to them, because 
they can serve it no longer, heaven in mercy 
gives them a foretaste of its joys, as they are 
hastening to its portals. The venerable Ja- 
cob was " stricken in years," and the sight of 
his eyes had partially failed him, yet " he gui- 
ded his hands wittingly" when he laid them 
upon the sons of Joseph, preferring the young- 
er to the firstborn ; and when he was stretch- 
en upon the bed of death, and called around 
him his sons, it was evident that age had not 
extinguished in him the fire of spiritual intelli- 
gence, but that the light of prophecy shed its 
brightest beams upon the darksome hour of 
death. St. John had long since passed the or- 
dinary limit of man's earthly sojourn, when 
the love of his saintly spirit breathed forth in 
his truly Christian epistles ; and he was press- 
ed beneath a still heavier w^eight of years and 
of infirmity, when he rose superior to it all, thai 
he might behold and record those sublime and 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 297 

unearthly visions which v^ere to " seal up for- 
ever the vision and the prophecy," and v^hich 
carry forw^ard our views to a point when 
"time shall be no more." Nor can we be 
wholly surprised at the wider range of spirit- 
ual comprehension, or the increasing spiritual- 
ity of feehng, by which the age of piety is 
marked and brightened. It is far from unnatu- 
ral that a larger measure of "the spirit of glory 
and of God" should rest upon those who have 
wellnigh done with the earth ; of whom it may 
truly be said, that " the world is crucified unto 
them, and they unto the world." Causes are 
made to operate in their case which can 
scarcely fail to be effective. The diminution 
of animal feeling and animal passion ; relaxa- 
tion from earthly toil, and partial freedom from 
engrossing care ;* comparative deadness to 
"things temporal," because they are temporal, 
and a nearer interest in " things eternal," be- 
cause they are eternal and near at hand ; lei- 
sure for reflection, in connexion with the con- 
templative disposition of age ; the conscious- 
ness that energy is daily waning — that life is 
near its lowest ebb ; a feeling of loneliness and 

* How simply and how touchingly is this expressed by the 
aged Barzillai : " How long have I to hve, that I should go up 
with the king unto Jerusalem ? I am this day fourscore years old ; 
and can I discern between good and evil ? can thy servant taste 
what I eat or what I drink ? can I hear any more the voice of 
singing-men and singing-women ? Let thy servant, I pray thee, 
turn back again, that I may die in mine own city, and be buried 
by the grave of my father and of my mother." — 2 Sam., xix., 34, 
35, 37. 



298 THE NEW MAN 

desolation, because of outlived comforts and 
outlived friends ; a feeling of attraction to- 
wards, and alliance with, the departed dead, 
rather than the living who remain : all these, 
influencing a heart already imbued with the 
love and the grace of God, already weary of 
earth, and longing for heaven, anxious to take, 
as it were, " the wings of a dove, and flee away 
and be at rest," " to depart and be with Christ," 
must increase the spirituality of the aged dis- 
ciple, and fit him for his final home. Wisely, 
mercifully has it been ordained by " Him who 
knoweth our frame," that we should thus slow- 
ly perish, in order that we may also be renew- 
ed day by day. Gracious is the provision that 
the circle of enjoyment should be contracted, 
and the edge of enjoyment dulled ; that the 
earth-cleaving spirit should be weaned from 
its fond attachment here, and have its love 
transferred to the heavens, where are its treas- 
ures and its rest. Well is it that " the keep- 
ers of the house do tremble, and the strong 
men bow themselves ; that the daughters of 
music are brought low; that there are fears 
in the way ; that the almond-tree doth flour- 
ish ; that the grasshopper is a burden ; and 
that desire fails" before " the silver cord is 
loosed," for these things cause it to be gently 
loosed, and mitigate the pain and the shock 
" when the golden bowl is broken, and the 
pitcher broken at the fountain." While they 
prepare the body for a more easy severance 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 299 

from its immortal inmate, they prepare that in- 
mate, the heaven-destined spirit, for its change 
to glory. Infirmities become monitors; fail- 
ing energies speak loudly of coming death ; 
death in prospect reminds of eternity, and 
eternity, kept steadily in view^, lifts up the soul 
to Him w^ho "Hveth forever and ever," and 
who " hath the keys of death and hell." Oh, 
how^ loudly does it speak of the mercy of our 
God, that the decay which comes to us in the 
very course of nature, which is the natural ri- 
pener of the mortal body for the sickle of 
death, should also so spiritualize the soul and 
mature its graces, as to make it meet to be 
gathered unto God ! 

But let it not be forgotten, that while the age 
of piety matures for blessedness, unsanctijied 
age confirms in guilt, hardens in impenitence, 
seals over to perdition, and " treasures up wrath 
against the day of wrath." 

But all may not live to be old. The " three- 
score years and ten" are seldom reached. The 
" fourscore years" are for a few only, " by 
reason of strength ;" God has therefore other 
preparatives for death, and brighteners for eter- 
nity. Adversity is a stern but a thorough 
teacher. Not in vain do his people pass 
through "the furnace of affliction." Prayer 
becomes more fervent and more importunate, 
the sense of dependance more immediate, and 
faith more lively, when " the soul is exceeding 
sorrowful, even unto death." A suffering life 



300 THE NEW MAN 

prepared the righteous spirit of Immanuel for 
the anguish of Gethsemane's garden, and Geth- 
semane nerved him for Calvary, and on the 
cross, " made perfect through suffering," he 
was prepared for his crown, as the King of 
saints, the " Head over all things to his Church." 
Tn some of its modifications, this brightening 
affliction may be allotted to those in the fresh- 
ness of youth and the fulness of health; and 
in their case we must feel, with the prophet, 
that " it is good for a man to bear the yoke 
in his youth." But there is one kind of afflic- 
tion to which I would more especially allude. 
There is one season of sorrow, and yet of prof- 
it, which seems wisely ordained of God to hold, 
as it were, an intermediate station between the 
two worlds, having an influence upon both, fitly 
closing the shifting, exciting scenery of the 
one, and as fitly introducing the more peace- 
ful, the more glorious scenery of the other — 
the season of wasting, lingering sickness ; and 
in this season of sickness, when it is most true 
that the outward man is perishing, it is equal- 
ly true that as to " the inward man," the sincere 
believer is " renewed day by day." If his men- 
tal faculties be not seriously impaired, it will 
generally be found that he makes better spir- 
itual progress amid the suflTerings of the body 
than in the fulness of exuberant health. There 
is something in his very situation which is fa- 
vourable to religious meditation and to sacred 
exercises. The world is necessarily shut out, 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 301 

to a certain degree at least, from his thoughts. 
He cannot see its vanities, he cannot mingle in 
its pursuits; he is compelled to say, as he 
looks back upon the checkered scenes through 
which he has passed, " All is vanity and vexa- 
tion of spirit." Self-communion and commu- 
nion with his God, both are forced upon him. 
The stillness and silence of his chamber natu- 
rally and insensibly remind him of the stillness 
and silence of that last narrow house to which, 
perhaps, he is near. He sees the tear of affec- 
tionate solicitude trembling in many an eye, 
" unused," perhaps, " to weep ;" he knows ev- 
ery effort of earthly skill to be put forth in his 
behalf ; and yet he knows, nay, more, he feels, 
that the tears, the anxieties, and the efforts of 
earth can avail little or naught against the will 
of Him who ruleth supreme ; and who, by the 
external indications of his providence, and per- 
haps by his secret monitions, has said to him, 
" Set thine house in order, for thou shalt die, 
and not live." To God, then, he turns ; not as 
to a new resource, in the way of a new experi- 
ment, but as to a tried friend, whose faithfulness 
adversity brings into requisition and puts to 
the test, and who is now appealed to with new 
earnestness and devotedness of spirit. If his 
malady be slow and insidious in its character, 
then is it so much the more spiritualizing in its 
effect, because making " patience to have its 
perfect work." When the first attacks are lev- 
elled against the citadel of hfe, the soul anx- 
C c 



302 THE NEW MAN 

iously asks of itself the question, " Whereunto 
shall these things grow?" and fears the an- 
swer which it still anticipates. The attack 
continues. Yet a little, and the outworks are 
taken ; while the relentless conqueror contin- 
ues his career, which the vital energies strive 
feebly, fruitlessly to check. The limbs, once 
so active, almost refuse their office. The eye 
either loses its lustre, or shines with a decep- 
tive and unnatural brilliancy. The cheek as- 
sumes the anticipated hollowness and paleness 
of death, or glows with that hectic flush which 
is but another token of his approach. The 
voice that lately sent forth its full and mellow 
tones, now has a hollow and sepulchral sound. 
Yet a little, and the victim may not even pass 
the threshold of his own dwelling, to taste the 
air in its freshness, and to look upon the sun in 
his radiance. The exhausted frame may not 
leave its couch ; and yet, alas ! it is not the 
couch of rest. In suffering and restlessness the 
day moves heavily along, while a double 
gloom and a double weariness rest over the 
slow-paced hours of night. At length the con- 
queror triumphs : the last sigh is heard, and 
the emaciated form is quiet in death! This 
is the first and the dark side of the picture. 
Here you behold "the outward man perish- 
ing" — perishing by a slow and painful process. 
But as the body draws nearer and nearer to the 
grave, the soul is sublimating for heaven. It 
seems as though the veil were partially, at least, 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 303 

withdrawn, and as though, Hke the enraptured 
Stephen, it could "see the heavens opened, and 
Jesus standing at the right hand of the Majes- 
.ty on high." The eye of faith seems now to 
have a more piercing ken, and to give indubi- 
table '• evidence of things not seen." At length 
the preparatory discipline is complete. There 
is a voice from heaven : " Come, for all things 
are now ready." " It is finished !" The earth- 
weaned spirit is released from its suffering, and 
" returns to Him who gave it ;" the closing lips 
having first uttered one strain of thanksgiving, 
and the expressive features having exhibited 
one beaming of joy, which still Imgers and 
dwells upon them, even when the marble 
coldness and whiteness of death is there. Such 
is the practical commentary which the provi- 
dence of God gives to the declaration of his 
Word, that " though the outward man perish, 
the inward man is renewed day by dayT 

Let it not be supposed that this is an extrav- 
agant description, for it is given from nature. 
It is predicated on personal observation. " We 
speak that we do know, we testify that we 
have seen." Were I to draw an inference from 
the recollections of my life, and especially my 
ministerial life, I would scarcely hesitate to 
hazard the assertion, that where sanctified 
affliction has instrumentally saved "its thou- 
sands," sanctified sickness saves " its tens of 
thousands." The eflfect of sorrow is apt to 
wane away with its decreasing poignancy; 



304 THE NEW MAN 

but as " the sickness that is unto death" goes 
steadily increasing unto death, its effect, when 
salutary, must be salutary to the end, without 
the possibility of diminution or reaction. The . 
unction which it gives to the behever, like Ma- 
ry's anointing of her Lord, is "unto his burial." 
It is " the savour of life unto life." 

It is familiar, even to worldly observers, that 
serious reflection, and a personal attention to 
the concerns of religion, sometimes originate 
in the visitation of disease ; nor can any ser- 
vant of the sanctuary be ignorant that it is one 
of the means employed for the conversion of 
the sinful. If, then, in some cases it can instru- 
mentally awe them into reflection, melt them 
to repentance, and move them to faith, it must 
surely be supposed capable of brightening the 
graces and increasing the spirituality of those 
who are already in a Christian state. The live- 
liest impressions which the writer has ever had 
of the state of the redeemed above, w^hen they 
"shall be made equal to the angels," have 
arisen from the close observation of some 
whom " pining sickness" was conducting to 
their God. They are impressions never to be 
erased. He has been privileged again and 
again to enter 

" The chamber where the good man breathed his last," 

and he has there seen how the chastening of 
the body could be for the health and life of 
the immortal soul. Two things have been 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 305 

Specially observed : that the more of faith and 
holiness there wsls in exercise w^hen disease 
commenced, the more was it robbed of its an- 
guish, and death despoiled of its sting ; and 
again, that the more sharp and more protract- 
ed the visitation, the more complete became 
the spirituality of the saint. 

There was young James T.,the widow's son, 
of , the staff of her earthly hope, the ex- 
pected prop of her house. She had been lib- 
eral of her slender resources, to give him, as it 
is termed, a start in the world — a first impetus 
on the great highway of exertion towards the 
goal of success : but there was partial disap- 
pointment there, and the sun of prosperity 
shone not as brightly as had been hoped on his 
early toil in the fresh morning of his day ; still, 
that was nothing ; he had health, and charac- 
ter, and industry, and filial piety, and with these 
he must succeed. But, ah ! the spoiler came ! 
and health withered at his approach, and the 
nerve of exertion was unstrung, and languor 
seized upon him who had never wearied of ef- 
fort before ; and, shattered in body, dispirited 
in mind, and broken in fortune, he returned to 
his widowed mother's house ; returned, to lan- 
guish and to die. But it was the home of com- 
fort, of aflfection, and of piety: just such a 
home as the sick man needs for a wasting body, 
and a wounded or trembling spirit. There 
were warm and kindly-beating hearts, and kin- 
dred sympathies, and delicate attentions to 
C c 2 



306 THE NEW MAN 

greet him at his coming ; " nursing mothers" to 
smooth his pillow and prepare his aliment, and 
sisterly attendants to minister to his wants, 
and physicians for the body, and spiritual phy- 
sicians for the soul, skilled in " ministering to 
the mind diseased." And he needed them all ; 
for disease came upon him in its strength, and 
death approached in his terrors. But, happily, 
hope and faith came also, to sustain him when 
" heart and flesh should fail" — to point him to 
the skies. Whether, or how far, the develop- 
ments of piety had anticipated the early indi- 
cations of decay, I am not informed, but suffer- 
ing called into action whatever latent piety 
might have resulted from pious training, a bless- 
ing on fervent prayers, or from the special and 
newly-given grace of the Most High. Mark- 
ed and rapid was his spiritual proficiency, and 
thorough was his final ripeness in the faith, 
passing, as he did, under the dark cloud of sor- 
row, and " baptized unto God in a sea of af- 
flictions." Oh ! the many days I have seen 
him wrestling manfully with pain, or fainting 
through exhaustion, or consuming by the burn- 
ing hectic, which, like a conqueror flushed with 
triumph, sat proudly on either cheek — and still, 
without a murmur, going, like a more meek and 
noble sufferer, as it were, " a lamb to the slaugh- 
ter" of death. And oh ! the many, many 
nights of sleeplessness and misery, in which he 
would be full of " tossings to and fro," until the 
morning ! How often, as I have watched be- 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 307 

side his bed, have I seen the clasped hands, and 
the upraised eyes, giving note of the prayer of 
faith that was secretly spreading his misery 
before the eye of compassion ; and hov^ sv^eet 
was it when all was still around, save the tick- 
ing of the watch over the mantle that told the 
passing minutes, to hear him speak of the mer- 
cies of God that encompassed that bed of suf- 
fering ; of the dying love of Christ to sinners ; 
of " the light and immortality" brought to life 
by the Gospel ! Oh ! these were preciofls 
scenes — precious hours ! " Look," said he to 
me during one of these nights of suffering, 
" look at that lamp : it is quivering and flicker- 
ing in the socket — it is almost gone ! What 
an emblem of myself ! even so is my poor flame 
of life flickering in its socket, and playing fit- 
fully around its little cell, soon to be extin- 
guished in the darkness of death ! but it mat- 
ters not ; it will be rekindled, and burn bright- 
er in a better world. I know in whom I have 
believed: Jesus is the light of life." And 
there it doubtless has been rekindled, for it is 
seen no more on earth. A few weeks after, I 
was summoned from the place where my au- 
tumnal vacations were usually spent, to follow 
this young and suffering believer to his early 
grave ; and over that grave tears were shed, 
whose fountain was deep indeed.^ 

♦ Since the publication of the first edition of this work, the 
mother of this interesting young man, the late Mrs. Ann Todd, 
of this city, has been called to her rest. She was the niece 
of the celebrated Dr. Witherspoon, the first president of Prince- 



308 THE NEW MAN 

The shepherd cannot readily forget those 
" lambs" of his flock who have been specially 
cast upon his pastoral care ; and never will I 
forget the gentle, the lovely, the suffering H. 

M , of B . Surely in her "patience 

had its perfect work ;" and as nearly as fallen 
humanity permitted, she was "made perfect 
through suffering." Oh ! how painfully trying, 
and yet how" thoroughly refining, was the pro- 
cess through which she was made to pass ! 
What rich and delightful spiritual experiences 
resulted from her last year of suffering ! She 
might well have said of the school of affliction, 
and of the Scripture as studied in that school, 
in the language of the Psalmist, Through it " I 
have more understanding than all my teach- 
ers ; yea, I understand more than the ancients." 
Years of ordinary, semi- worldly, and prosper- 
ous profession could not have given her such 
insight into sacred things, into " the deep things 
of God," and such experience of Divine conso- 
lations as came to her through that last visita- 
tion, which enabled her, " in a short time, to do 
the work of many days." Her fears were 

ton College, New-Jersey, and one of the signers of the Declara- 
tion of Independence, by whom, in her early life, she was brought 
to this country. She died while on a visit to her children and 
relatives in Scotland, the land of her nativity. Four years of 
his early life the author spent beneath her roof, and was subse- 
quently privileged to number her among his warmest personal 
friends. To an uncommon share of natural kindliness of dispo- 
sition and feeling she added a piety deep and ardent, yet smgu- 
larly unobtrusive. The author cannot refrain from paying at 
least this passing tribute to the memory of one to whom, while 
living, he was so strongly attached. 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 309^ 

many, her conflicts sore, her prayers importu- 
nate, her longings for assurance great ; and 
such assurance as the anxious spirit needs — 
the assurance of exalted Christian hope — came 
to her at last ; not as she had once delusively 
expected, in the way of special miracle, private 
revelation, but through ordinary Gospel prom- 
ise, received in faith, and sealed to her by "the 
Spirit of promise." Well said the poet of the 
Christian's dying hour, 

" Then, then the triumph and the trance begin, 
And all the phoenix spirit burns within." 

And well might this language, so full of poe- 
try, and yet so full of truth, have been applied 
in her case. Her victory was as complete as 
her trial had been severe. A day is short, but 
a day of dying agony is long indeed. Slowly 
did it pass with her, sadly with those who 
could have " died for her," that she might live. 
Through much of that long and weary day 
was her transparent, bloodless hand placed in 
mine, while the opened Book of God sup- 
plied me with words of cheering promise — 
with themes of Christian comfort, meet for the 
dying ear and the fainting heart ; and strong 
was the appropriating faith which received 
them to herself, and simple, touching, pertinent, 
saintly, were her dying comments. " The 
bridegroom cometh," said she sweetly, looking 
too pure for earth, and meet only for the bri- 
dal of heaven : " I go to meet him at his com- 
ing. Thanks to his efficient grace, I am ready, 



310 THE NEW MAN 

waiting, watching ; my lamp is burning : come, 
Lord Jesus, come quickly. O death ! where is 
thy sting? O grave! where is thy victory? 
Thanks be to God, who giveth me the victo- 
ry, through my Lord Jesus Christ." And " the 
victory" was hers. She had " fought a good 
fight, she had finished her course" — her crown 
was won. The strain of holy triumph was 
hushed in the stillness @f death. There was 
another added to the ransomed host, "who 
came out of great tribulation !" 

This, reader, is not from my book of parish 
sketches. Its only record was on the tablets 
of memory. And now memory carries me 
farther back, to a scene in which my heart has 
a closer and a holier interest. 

My earliest remembrance of languishment 
and death was connected with a touching ex- 
ample of " suffering affliction" sanctified to 
high spirituality. The sufferer was young. 
Nineteen summers marked her little all of life, 
and the charm of young attachment to this fair 
world must have been heightened by the bright 
promise of happiness in coming years — by the 
fond hope that is connected with the pledg- 
ed heart and the affianced hand. Yet, with all 
this to bind her to life, she was resigned to 
death — willing " to depart and be with Jesus." 
The commencement of her malady was doubt- 
less insidious and unobserved. There comes 
to me a confused remembrance of her droop- 
ing form and blanching cheek ; of anxieties ex- 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 311 

hibited and expressed in the family circle ; of 
various expedients to prevent ennui to the in- 
vahd, and to cheat disease of his prey, by fre- 
quent changing of the scene — by daily rides or 
excursions on the water, when the weather 
was favourable ; but much more distinct is my 
remembrance of her increasing seriousness 
and love for sacred reading ; of her Bible and 
Prayer Book, so often found open on her Uttle 
stand ; of her delight in accompanying a loved 
mother's voice in singing the hymns of praise, 
and especially that one, evidently so appropri- 
ate, 

" Hark ! they whisper ; angels say, 
Sister spirit, come away." 

All this was observed ; but I knew not then 
that the patient sufferer was gathering togeth- 
er her spiritual resources for the last dread en- 
counter ; and, no doubt, there were many oth- 
er evidences of waning interest in the things 
of earth, and increasing interest in things be- 
yond the earth, which my childish heedlessness 
noted not. At last, after hope had died and re- 
vived, and revived and died, came the day of 
death. The morning dawned upon her, whose 
evening she was not to behold on earth. Pil- 
lowed in her easy-chair, she had been placed 
during the morning by her favourite window, 
from which she might look out upon the green 
bank, and upon the noble bay, ever enlivened 
by the many passing vessels: the noon was 
scarcely past before she was stretched upon 



312 THE NEW MAN 

her bed of death. Oh, what a rush of feeUngs 
was there to my young heart when she called 
me to that bed, and placing her soft, attenua- 
ted hand in mine, begged me to retire and pray 
for her — pray that she might be strengthened 
in her dying agony ! and, child as I was, I did 
pray — oh ! how earnestly, how sorrowfully ! 
" with strong crying and tears ;" I know not in 
what words, but in words which nature taught, 
which came warm and free, " out of the abun- 
dance of the heart." On returning, it was evi- 
dent that " the bitterness of death" to her was 
past. The anxious, startled look, ever attend- 
ant on the consciousness of incipient death, 
was exchanged for a look of sweet serenity, of 
heavenly hope. She alone was calm ; all else 
were moved. The very servants wept, as they 
came to take their last farewell. Her aged 
grandsire, bending beneath the weight of more 
than eighty years, " his staff in his hand for 
very age," bowed his head upon that staff, and 
" groaned in spirit," for she had been the dar- 
ling of his heart, the light of his failing eyes. 
Her mother sat wringing her hands in speech- 
less agony ; and to that mother, for whom she 
felt more than for herself, she turned and said, 
" Weep not for me," my mother : " I go to my 
Father and your Father, to my God and your 
God ;" and with these words of her Lord on 
her lips, she expired. 

The first gush of sorrow had ceased its flow. 
Feelings which had been paralyzed by the sud- 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 313 

denness and severity of the shock, w^ere for a 
time quiescent. It was the day which inter- 
vened between her death and interment — a 
day which has always feehngs peculiar to it- 
self, when the excitement of the dying scene 
is succeeded by temporary exhaustion, to be 
again roused by the final parting — the commit- 
tal of " earth to earth, dust to dustP It was on 
that day, when stillness reigned through the 
house of death, and when subdued grief re- 
strained its feelings, that all " things might be 
done decently and in order" for the burial ; it 
was then that, in a spirit suited to the time, I 
stood watching the chamber of death, where for 
the time "my treasure was," and also "my 
heart." The door was suddenly opened, and 
one, who had been there to take a last fond 
look at features that were engraven on his 
heart, to hold a last solemn communing with 
the dead, rushed out in haste, his face con- 
cealed in his hands, and in one long, loud burst 
of sorrow calling upon her beloved name, hast- 
ened from the house, to enter it no more ! It 
was her betrothed ! He had loved her, doted 
on her in life, and it seemed as though he 
was desirous to follow her in death. Life, to 
him, had lost its charm, and he was wildly, peri- 
lously reckless of its preservation. Seeking 
relief in change, and hastening he knew not, 
cared not whither, he embarked in an old and 
shattered vessel, that should never more have 
braved the faithless sea. When or how he per- 

D D 



314 THE NEW MAN 

ished, none returned to tell. The vessel was 
never heard of more. He sleeps in ocean's 
depths — she in her quiet churchyard grave. 
But " the earth and the sea shall give up their 
dead." Reader^ she was my sister ! Sancti- 
fied sickness loosened the cords of earth, and 
made her free for the light and life of a better 
world. Disease and death were made to min- 
ister unto her, so that she might be " an heir of 
salvation." Blessed are they who, even by 
means like these, are brought to thorough spir- 
ituality on earth, before they go to join " the 
spirits of the just made perfect." 

That sister rests not alone. The mourners 
and the mourned repose together. He who 
bowed his aged head upon his staff, as he wept 
for her early removal, has pillowed that head 
in the grave. The brother, for whose com- 
ing she so anxiously watched in her dying hour 
— " his sun," like hers, " having gone down 
while it was yet day" — sleeps beside her. 
There, too, is one who, without a mother's 
name, loved her with almost maternal tender- 
ness, and bewailed her with almost maternal 
grief, and who was ever as a mother to all my 
mother's children. And there, last of all, is 
that mother herself— " gone to" those who 
might not " return to her" — gone to " her Fa- 
ther and their Father, to her God and their 
God;^^ and soon we shall all be there ; and 
they who once formed a family of earth shall 
be numbered among the countless families of 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 315 

the dead. Oh that it may be to realize that 
noble imagining of the painter's mind, " the 
resurrection of a pious family in the last day !" 

The heart loves to think and to speak of those 
whom it has loved, yet lost ; and if " Christ 
have been magnified in them, whether by their 
life or their death," the Christian heart prompts 
to speak the more freely. There is, indeed, 
" a bitterness of its own," which the heart 
alone can know — there is a grief with which 
a stranger " intermeddleth not." Be these 
kept from the public eye. There are remem- 
brances, my reader, touching and holy remem- 
brances, which I may not share with you. 
There are others, illustrative of the providence 
and of the grace of God, and of the Christian's 
disciplined maturing for heaven, which need 
not be withheld. 

I have spoken to you of my mother. My 
thoughts recur to her again, and my pen must 
follow them. Hard, hard indeed was her dis- 
cipline of sorrow, and sickness, and infirmity, 
but blessed and brightening was its effect. 
Naturally timid and retiring — early widowed, 
and deeply tried — she bowed her head to the 
blast, and seemed like a drooping flower, too 
sensitive and fragile to endure the rough winds 
of this unkindly world. Yet she did endure. 
He who " tempers the wind to the shorn lamb" 
sustained her. She was permitted to lean 
upon the arm, and to share the heart and the 
converse of one, already alluded to, who, a sis- 



316 THE NEW MAN 

ter by blood, was more than a sister in feeling 
and in act."^ At length this stay of her trem- 
bling heart, to whom she had so long and so 
closely clung that her very life seemed bound 
up with her, was suddenly removed : " full of 
years and full of honour" — yea, full of faith, 
and strong in hope — herself a bright example 
of growing spirituality in waning years — of 
native liberality and disinterestedness but rare- 
ly paralleled, changed and sanctified into truly 
Gospel benevolence — of early and absorbing 
worldliness, finally displaced by " the love of 
the Father"— of a Martha-spirit, ever " cum- 
bered with much serving," delighting, subse- 
quently, rather to " sit at the feet of Jesus," 
and rejoicing in " the good part never to be 
taken from her" — and, at last, " of becoming a 
conqueror, and more than a conqueror," in the 
last sharp conflict with the " king of terrors." 
But she was removed ; and she that clung to 
her so fondly was left to her desolation. We 
felt that she would not survive it. Hearts that 
have grown, as it were, together, may not long 
be dissevered even by death itself A union 
that has formed the habit of life can only be 
broken at the expense of life. The affinities 
of spirit are strong indeed. The distance be- 
tween two worlds is not too great for their 
attractive force. If they cannot bring back 
the dead to the livings they at least hasten the 

* The late Mrs. Rime Stewart, of the Narrows, L. I.— the au- 
thor's maternal aunt. 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 317 

living to the dead. Her heart was smitten to 
the dust. She raUied not again. The blow 
was struck, from which there could be no re- 
covery. For a time, indeed, she endured life, 
but she enjoyed it no more. Her thoughts, her 
heart, were with the departed. She longed to 
be with them. Yet her process of decay was 
slow. Days of languor and "nights of weari- 
ness were appointed unto her." For seventeen 
weary months she lingered upon the earth, and 
they were months of spiritual improvement. 
Patience was exercised — submission was per- 
fected — faith was strengthened — experience 
was ripened — hope gathered brightness. Her 
" profiting was evident unto all." It was de- 
lightful, indeed, to the eye of Christian affection. 
Oh ! those blessed seasons of converse with 
her on " the things of God" — on death, with its 
bitterness, grace with its supports, and eterni- 
ty with its expected developments ! And that 
last sacramental communing ! when a son, " the 
only son of his mother, and she a widow," was 
constrained to deliver to the dying mother the 
emblems of redeeming love ; and when the 
children, as they communed with her, " moist- 
ened the bread" of life, and " mingled the wine" 
of joy with their tears — tears of natural sor- 
row, to think that it was for the last time, and 
yet of pious gratitude, that this last opportuni- 
ty was theirs ; while she, calm and self-possess- 
ed, was evidently rejoicing in the thought that 
her next communing would be above, where 
Dd2 



318 THE NEW MAN 

she would " taste the fruit of the vine," " new 
in her Father's kingdom." Throughout the 
whole of that touching yet consolatory service, 
her voice was heard, clear, though tremulous, 
in response ; and when it was proposed to 
omit the Communion hymn, because, in that 
hour of deep excitement, with hearts oppressed 
with grief and voices choked with emotion, it 
was felt to be scarcely practicable to "sing 
one of the songs of Zion," she plead for the ef- 
fort, and sweetly assisted in the performance. 
Oh, it was indeed a season to be remembered ! 
It seemed to be done, as it were, "unto her 
burial ;" and the affecting celebration derived 
additional interest from the presence and par- 
ticipation of another mother,^ over whom the 
snows of more than ninety winters had passed, 
and who, with her age-dimmed eyes fixed on 
heaven, still lingered with us for yet a season, 
and then, in the fulness of a holy hope, was ta- 
ken to her rest. 

And then that dying testimony, so full, so 
precious ! when, after a night of restlessness 
and agony — her last on earth — my mother 
said, " I have had an awful night ; that is, as to 
my hody^ but not as to my mind: all is right 
there ; there I have peace : God has done all 
things well. I know in whom I have believed, 
and am at rest." And then, that last whisper- 

^ The late Mrs. Elizabeth Denyse, the author's maternal 
grandmother, who died at the advanced age of 92, in the full en- 
joyment of her mental faculties to the last. 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 319 

ed word, audible only to the ear that was bent 
low to the dying couch to hear — "My Saviour," 
feebly breathed amid the faintness of death — 
this, oh, this was enough ! It was a legacy of 
enduring comfort to those who were constrain- 
ed to mourn, but " not as others, without hope." 
Two, who were then present in that house 
of mourning, and whose young hearts poured 
the gushing tribute of sorrowing affection over 
the remains of one revered and loved, have 
since followed her to the world of spirits. It 
may be pardoned in one who has had the mem- 
ory of their early promise and their early loss 
enshrined in his heart, to give a brief memori- 
al of them, less cold, even though it be less en- 
during, than the marble that points out their 
lamented graves. One,^ in the freshness of 
opening manhood, seeking, in a spot far distant 
from the home and the scenes of his youth, the 
means of honourable support and independ- 
ence, was there arrested by disease, and sum- 
moned to part from life, so dear to youth and 
hope. The consuming fever coursed through 
his veins, and drank up the springs of life ; and 
although enjoying all the comforts and atten- 
tions which the kindness and sympathy of those 
among whom he sojourned could minister, was 
still without a kindred eye to beam upon him in 
tenderness, or a kindred hand to smooth his dy- 
ing pillow. Yet was he " not alone ; for God 

* William Augustus Bayley, the autlH)r's nephew, who died at 
Mobile in the month of July, 1836. 



320 THE NEW MAN 

was with him." The child of many prayers, 
prayer was answered in his behalf, and the 
faith into which he had been baptized, and in 
which he had been nurtured, was revived in 
its strength, to sustain him at the last. Under 
the faithiiil ministrations of one who " watched 
for souls," and who spake soothingly to him of 
" Jesus and the resurrection," the humble hope 
of " acceptance in the beloved" followed in the 
train of penitence and faith. Having, at his 
own desire, received the sacred memorials of 
his Saviour's dying love, and having, with a 

. rejoicing heart, chanted forth the praises of re- 
deeming grace as with his dying breath, he 
"fell asleep in Jesus," to "wake up," it is 
trusted, " after his likeness, and be satisfied 
therewith," and to unite with the choir above 
in singing " a new song unto Him that sitteth 
upon the throne, and to the Lamb forever.*' 

Of the other,* how shall I speak ? She had 
bitterly wept on receiving the tidings of his 
death, for, nearly allied by blood, she had been 
his playmate in childhood, and the sisterly friend 
of his youth ; soon, alas ! in a few brief months, 
to follow him to the tomb. " The only child of 
her mother, and she a widow;" nursed in the 

, lap of tenderness ; gifted with natural endow- 
ments of no ordinary character, which had 
been fully developed by education, and had re- 
ceived the refinement and finish which the 

*• The author's beloved niece, Jane Ann Smith, who died m 
this city in February, 1837, 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 321 

lighter and more graceful accomplishments 
can bestow ; radiant in beauty, buoyant in spir- 
its, attracting an admiration that might have 
been fatal to one of a less artless and ingenu- 
ous spirit; a very idol of home and friends, 
with everything that could gild the present, 
and open to her bright visions of richer happi- 
ness in future life — she too was " cut down as 
a flower." Yet to her the stroke of the de- 
stroyer came not unexpected. A presentiment, 
or foreboding of her early removal, had for 
months, if not years, been deeply impressed 
upon her mind, and often and most seriously 
expressed. Twice, within a brief period of her 
removal, while yet in the full flush of health, 
did she say most solemnly and impressively to 
him who now pens this tribute of sorrowing af- 
fection to her cherished memory, "My dear 
, / shall not live long — / feel it ;" and al- 
though this was treated at the time as a vain 
and causeless impression, yet did it furnish occa- 
sion for converse and counsel, serious, and, it 
may be hoped, salutary. For months before 
her call, the author, to whom she was indeed 
" as a daughter," was forcibly struck by the to- 
kens of a deepening interest in spiritual things. 
In Biblical study, while weekly attending the 
exercises of a Bible class under his direction, 
she was pecuKarly diligent, and deeply inter- 
ested ; and on one occasion remarked, " If I 
ever reach the standard at which I aim, and 
become such a Christian as I would desire to be, 



322 THE NEW MAN 

it will be, I think, through God's blessing on the 
exercises of this class : I have never yet been 
made to feel as I have here." Almost from the 
commencement of her last illness, even when 
to others deeply interested there seemed no 
ground of apprehension, she expressed her con- 
fident persuasion of its fatal termination ; and 
doubtless this persuasion was secretly impro- 
ved to a due and earnest preparation for her ap- 
proaching change. The nature of her disease 
precluded the opportunity for much discourse 
or for formal religious exercises. But with her 
w^hole heart and soul did she unite in such reli- 
gious services as could properly be held in her 
sick chamber ; and again and again did she 
give vent to the aspirations of fervent prayer, 
and the expressions of humble and holy hope. 
Occasionally expressing a wish for life, so natu- 
ral in one to whom life had so many charms, 
and the firm resolve, if spared, to live more 
closely to her God, yet again she would say, 
"I am wiUing to die if God shall please: his 
will be done. I trust my Saviour will receive 
me." Her Bible, a precious relic to the mother 
to whose deep anguish in the approaching sep- 
aration she often and feelingly alluded, gave 
proof of constant and assiduous perusal. Un- 
numbered passages of touching interest, and of 
peculiar pertinency to one seriously impressed, 
were found marked, with occasional brief re- 
marks, in the margin ; and many of them, 
showing the strength of her premonition of an 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 323 

early departure hence, were such as related to 
death, and especially the death of the young. 
She has gone ! but it will be long before her 
image will fade from the mind and hearts of 
those who knew and loved her. " Her sun 
went down while it was yet day," but only, it 
is believed, to rise in resplendent glory on a no- 
bler scene, to set no more forever. Some to 
whom she was known— by this brief sketch 
from one too closely allied to give utterance to 
all that memory retains and the heart feels, or 
to speak as a stranger might be privileged to 
speak — will be reminded of one rarely equalled, 
whose remembrance doubtless often comes to 
them, as one of those bright visions which are 
seen for a moment, and then pass away. 

Will not my young readers, whose eyes 
may glance over these pages, be solemnly ad- 
monished, that death waits not always the de- 
cay of age, but often rejoices to gather youth 
and beauty to the grave ? Will they not lay 
to heart the monitions that come to them from 
the graves of these early called : " Remember 
thy Creator in the days of thy youth ;" " Pre- 
pare to meet thy God ;" " Be ye also ready?" 

Two others,^ who formed part of the lit- 

* The allusion is to her maternal aunt, the late Miss Anne 
H. Davies, whose amiability, perseverance under trials, and 
many excellencies had endeared her to her friends, and who, in 
the very article of death, sent a message to the writer, to cheer 
him by the expression of her Christian hope ; and to the mother of 
this lady, the late Mrs. Anne S. Davies, long known as an en- 
lightened and most devoted member of the Church, who, at the 
advanced age of fourscore years, closed her long and diversified 



324 THE NEW MAN 

tie circle of her family and home, and who 
loved and mourned her as few are loved and 
mourned, now mingle their ashes with hers. 
They are identified with the writer's early re- 
membrances, were endeared to him by the 
friendship and companionship of subsequent 
life, and will ever be held in affectionate re- 
membrance. 

Blessed be thy name, thou Father of mercies 
and God of all consolation, that even by age 
and disease thou dost prepare for death and 
judgment, and dost " nourish up unto everlast- 
ing life." 

Sickness and age, however, are special pre- 
paratives not appointed unto all, and therefore 
not usually to be relied on for the souFs meet- 
ness for standing before its Judge. Many a 
head is laid low in the grave that has not been 
whitened by age, and many go down " to the 
chambers of death" without passing through the 
gloom of the sick chamber. Let not the re- 
newed and heaven-seeking spirit wait for these, 
then, to give it the last finish for eternity. 
Rather, in the daily exercises of devotion, in dai- 
ly and filial intercourse with God, let it seek in- 
creasing spirituality, and thus secure its safety 
and augment its joy. It is a mercy that God 
makes the life-sapping infirmities of mortal man 
conducive to his soul's well-being in eternity ; 

life under the author's roof, in the full possession of her faculties, 
" in the communion of the Catholic Church, in the comfort of a 
reasonable, religious, and holy hope, in favour with her God, and 
in perfect charity with the world." 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 325> 

but this salutary discipline may never be ex- 
tended to us ; and even though it should, yet 
the improvement hence derived would be par- 
tially robbed of its proper influence on oth- 
ers, by the very circumstances under v^hich it 
would be exhibited ; for, to careless and worldly 
observers, the service of debility and age will 
ever seem questionable, even if it be not regard- 
ed as the sacrifice of fear on the altar of super- 
stition, or the offering of dotard weakness con- 
sequent on natural decay, or as an enforced 
conformity to the proprieties of time and cir- 
cumstances ; but SPIRITUALITY in the freshness 
of youth, or the pride of maturity — in the ful- 
ness of health, or the brightness of prosperity ; 
SPIRITUALITY uot obtained by avoiding evil, but 
by overcoming the evil that is in the world ; 
SPIRITUALITY, uot iu the desert or the cloister, 
but in the midst of the world, surrounded by 
its temptations, exposed to its trials, annoyed 
by its vexations, and harassed by its cares — 
this is above suspicion and beyond dispute. It 
shows Christian principle in its proper disinter- 
estedness — Christian holiness in all its beauty 
and moral dignity. This is the noblest exhibi- 
tion that can be given of a changed heart — 
the best preparative against the contingencies 
of the future — the surest pledge of" acceptance 
in the Beloved." Be this, my Christian read- 
ers, your constant aim. Rest not until "ye 

ARE WASHED, UNTIL YE ARE JUSTIFED, UNTIL YE 
ARE SANCTIFIED, IN THE NAME OF THE LoRD Je- 
E E 



326 ' THE NEW MAN 

SUS, AND BY THE SpIRIT OF OUR GoD." Be HOt 

satisfied even with humble, though sure indi- 
cations of incipient preparedness for heaven; 
but seek to " go from strength to strength," and 
to be indeed " changed from glory to glory." 

There is a noble incitement to the cultiva- 
tion and exercise of this spirituality, in the 
thought that all of it which is attained is so 
much gained for eternity — so much of " treas- 
ure laid up for us in heaven." There are scien- 
ces which have reference only to the earth ; and 
which, however necessary for it, can have no 
scope for their exercise in the heavenly world, 
and which consequently are valueless as far as 
eternity is concerned, except through their gen- 
eral and indirect influence in the enlargement 
and strengthening of intellect. But not so with 
this. Essential in its lower degrees to admis- 
sion into heaven, its higher degrees are con- 
nected with proportionate degrees of blessed- 
ness and glory. Happiest is he who has most 
of it ! for he has most of the spirit of heaven. 
He enters upon his glorified state under the hap- 
piest auspices — with the fullest preparation 
for its exalted duties and its rich enjoyments 
— most assimilated' to the pure and spiritual in- 
telligences with which it will be shared. He 
will shine most brightly in that firmament, in 
which " one star shall differ from another star 
in glory." His seat will be " high and lifted 
up," near to those favoured ones who immedi- 
ately surround " the throne of God and of the 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 327 

Lamb." Be increasing spirituality, then, the 
aim of all who are living and labouring for 
heaven. It is that grace which shall not be ut- 
terly lost, even in glory. " Whether there be 
prophecies, they shall fail ; w^hether there be 
tongues, they shall cease ; whether there be 
knowledge, it shall vanish away ;" but this, 
like " charity, never faileth." It is the essential 
characteristic grace of heaven — it is as endu- 
ring as eternity. 

Is it measurably and even conspicuously at- 
tained ? Then be it carefully and jealously pre- 
served. Its protective shield must be kept 
bright and polished by daily use, or it will lose 
its lustre, and the rust will gather upon it. So 
volatile and ethereal is its ow^n nature, that it 
may not with impunity be exposed to the at- 
mosphere of earth. In that atmosphere, its 
essence speedily, insensibly evaporates ; and 
when its spirit, its aroma has fled, although its 
semblance may remain, its power is lost : it is 
as " the salt that has lost its savour." 

Let believers, then, look well to themselves, 
to their spirit within, and their profession with- 
out, that they " lose not those things which they 
have wrought, but receive a full reward." It 
is well, indeed, that they have a better keeper 
than themselves — that they " are kept by the 
power of God through faith unto salvation ;" 
but let them remember, that this celestial guard- 
ianship will only be exercised over those who 
are watchful over themselves. There is weight 



328 THE NEW MAN 

in that solemn injunction of Scripture, " Keep 
thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are 
the issues of life." The expression " out of it 
are the issues of life" has reference, it is most 
natural to imagine, to the material organ of the 
heart, which, by a wonderful mechanism of 
the Divine Creator, sends forth the blood, the 
vital fluid, the stream of hfe, beautifully termed 
'' the issues of life," to circulate throughout the 
system, and then return to it again, to be again 
propelled, and thus keep the circling tide of life 
ever in its flow. If this vital organ becomes 
languid in action, or sends forth a depraved or 
vitiated stream instead of w^hat ought to be the 
pure " issues of life," disease ensues. Should 
it wholly cease its action, death is the result. 
And so, in the spiritual man, the heart is the 
great organ of life, intended to send forth the 
streams of spiritual grace and life throughout 
the whole economy of "the inner man;" and 
if it be not kept in health, purity, and vigour, the 
pulse of spiritual life will feebly beat, and the 
tokens of decay and dissolution will supervene. 
Keep, then, oh believer, thy heart with all dil- 
igence, above all keeping, for out of it are the 
issues of life, or, it may be, of death. Life or 
death, the eternal life or the second and eternal 
death, depend on its moral conservation. 

Some have imagined that the figure involv- 
ed in the reason assigned for this important 
precept, was drawn from the pure streams that 
were to issue from a living fountain, and to ir- 
rigate and refresh the surface of the soul, rep- 



MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 329 

resented under the emblem of a garden. Al- 
though less probable, yet the supposition ad- 
mits of a happy and forcible application. The 
fabled garden of the Hesperides, with its gold- 
en fruits, and guarded by its hundred-headed 
dragon, but faintly illustrates the value "^-nd the 
danger of the Christian soul, which should, in- 
deed, be " as a watered garden," bearing the 
more than golden fruits of piety, and requiring 
for its security a sleepless vigilance and an 
active warfare, such as were fabulously indica- 
ted by the hundred eyes and hundred hands of 
Briareus. Keepers, then, as we are of a spir- 
itual vineyard, thus rich, and yet endangered, 
let us "be sober, and watch unto prayer ;" pray- 
er unto that " Keeper of Israel who will nei- 
ther slumber nor sleep." 

And now, my readers, we part ; for a time, at 
least, perhaps forever ! and as my pen fondly 
hngers on the last verge of my subject, I feel a 
deeper anxiety, and a warmer desire that it 
should trace, were it possible, a parting word 
that might be for your good. It is easy for us to 
become the dupes of fancy ; but I knew not, 
until now, that her illusions could effect the 
feelings as strongly as reality itself. The in- 
tercourse of the pen has insensibly beguiled me 
into an intercourse of the heart and the affec- 
tions, I find myself seduced into a fancied ac- 
quaintance and familiarity with many of you, 
whose " face in the flesh" I may never, perhaps, 
behold, and to whom, in human probability, I 
E E 2 



330 THE NEW MAN MATURING FOR HEAVEN. 

shall forever be a stranger. I have address- 
ed you, and communed with you in these pa- 
ges, until I seem to know, and assuredly feel 
for you ; and until I can truly say, that •' my 
heart's desire and prayer to God for you is, 
that you may be saved." That this feeling 
will be reciprocal, I dare not hope ; it will be 
enough if the proffered intercourse be not 
harshly declined ; and should there be spiritu- 
al benefit to you, I will gladly forego the cheer- 
ing reward of kindly feeling to myself 

Truly, yet humbly can I say, that the prep- 
aration of this little work has led me to look 
more closely into my own heart, and to lament 
its corruption more deeply ; if its perusal in- 
duce you to look into yours, its object will be 
gained. Take w^th you from that perusal 
these last and solemnly-repeated truths : That 

BY NATURE " THE HEART IS DECEITFUL ABOVE 
ALL THINGS, AND DESPERATELY WICKED;" THAT 
GRACE MUST RENEW IT *, THAT WATCHFULNESS 
MUST KEEP IT ; AND THAT ITS SANCTIFICATION 
MUST BRIGHTEN UNTIL ITS ENTRANCE UPON GLO- 
RY. Touchingly indeed has a Christian poet 
expressed my closing monition ; 

"But know ! there dwells within that breast 
A spirit, an immortal guest ! 
In beauty more resplendent far 
Than damask rose or evening star. 
Which, envious Death ! survives the hour, 
When mortals own thy withering power. 
Haste, then, improve that nobler part, 
Worth all thy care, worth all thy art. 
That must be noble which to God's allied, 
And worth all care, for which a Saviour died." 
THE END. 



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